


Queen Jezebel Rewrites the Book of Kings

by FanchonMoreau



Category: The Fall (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 18:16:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 67,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3080132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanchonMoreau/pseuds/FanchonMoreau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Spector probably intends to use whatever he’s found in the diary to mock me, rile me, humiliate me in some way. I think the first line of inquiry he would pursue would be the objects of my sexual fantasies." </p><p>An alternate version of the final three episodes of The Fall. Finally Complete!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not going to claim this is going to be as good or tense or procedurally accurate as what actually happened, but I will make two tentative promises:
> 
> 1\. There will be more ladies.  
> 2\. It will be significantly gayer.
> 
> I'm going to be borrowing liberally from the show, so you will see verbatim lines. Obviously none of these characters or situations belong to me, but those don't belong to me especially. 
> 
> Trigger warning: Emotional and physical abuse. Mentions of stalking, violence against women, sexual assault and rape. I will be diligent making TWs as specific as possible as this is updated.
> 
> Thanks for joining me on this crazy ride? Hope I don't screw it up too badly :D

_“When a woman tells the truth, she is creating the possibility for more truth around her.”—Adrienne Rich_

Stella has a single recurring dream.

She’s developed a short hand for it in her diary: _wolf haven_. It’s economical, but it’s descriptive enough to have the same clarifying effect as a full entry. The dream is so well known to her that there’s little purpose in recounting it, not even in her own head.

But now, standing outside the crime scene cordon at the Merchant Hotel, she’s briefly tempted to re-enter the world of that dream.  Instead, she remembers how steady her hand was, the few times in Belfast when she’s had and noted this dream. She visualizes Spector going through his pictures and staring at those words in utter bewilderment.

Better picturing him reading that than any of the alternatives.

She needs to keep herself mentally sharp in this moment. Forensics has asked her about her movements in the room since the beginning of the day, and they will need more specific details from her before they close the crime scene. She will need to account for every moment of her evening (she must not, she _must not,_ let her thoughts wander to what almost happened with Tanya). She estimates she’ll be at the Merchant for another few hours.

And then she will return to her office, and she will wait at her computer until someone from Forensics sends her a file with the pictures of her diary. They will send this to her not because it belongs to her but because it is evidence associated with her task force, as is the procedure. They will cc Eastwood, perhaps Burns, and they will recommend that at least one of her subordinates take the time to fully review it.

And it will be lost to her.

Stella takes a long breath in through her nose and holds it for ten seconds. What she wouldn’t do for a swim. Failing that, she lets her thoughts settle again on that recurring dream. She only has that dream when she goes to sleep feeling contented in some way; it has a habit of appearing after investigative breakthroughs or major arrests. The last time she had it was the night after Tanya first told her about Rose Stagg.

 _Wolf haven._ She thinks she won’t be having that dream for some time.

* * *

Stella’s engrossed in research about Fuseli’s _The Nightmare_ when she sees ACC Burns lingering outside her office door. She eyes the time at the corner of her laptop screen: 5:25 AM. If he is not still drunk, then he is certainly hung over. She is fully prepared to ignore him when he opens her office door sharply and walks right in.

Stella doesn’t look up. “Have you been briefed on the new developments?”

She’s still staring at a high-res image of _The Nightmare_ , but she can almost hear Burns furrow his brow. “I heard there was a crime scene at the Merchant. I don’t know the specifics. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Stella has to restrain herself from snorting. _You sexually assaulted me just hours ago, and now you want to know if I’m okay?_ It is not the time or the place to confront him, not if it will endanger the investigation, but Stella gives herself a moment and lets herself be angry.

She composes herself and looks at him. “I’m fine. But there’s some CCTV footage that you need to see.” She gestures for him to join her on her side of the desk.

She presses play on the CCTV footage and points at a figure outside her hotel room door. “22:06. An individual resembling Paul Spector enters my hotel room.” She skips ahead in the video. “23:01, that’s me returning to the room, and 23:03, there’s you, knocking on the door.” She skips ahead again. “11:12 PM, that’s Spector leaving.”

She pulls out a layout of her hotel room and points to the walk-in closet. “He must have been hiding in here.” Now she points to the center of the room. “He would have been watching us when we had our… confrontation, which was here. And he must have escaped while we were in the bathroom and I was cleaning your face.”

Burns palms his face. “Jesus. He must have heard everything.”

“Oh, forget your private embarrassment for a moment,” Stella snaps.  “You were talking about Father… whatever he calls himself. And I’m pretty sure you referred to Paul Spector by name.”

She’s standing up now, and she and Burns are on opposite sides of her desk. He turns to face her, and she responds by leaning back and crossing her arms across her chest. “Are you certain,” he asks.

“Not certain. But if you did, then he knows that we’re on to him.”

She meets Burns’ eyes and lets that information sit with him for a few seconds. He needs to get over himself and understand how badly this investigation might be compromised.

He looks away and turns his attention to the printout of _The Nightmare_ on the wall. She goes to stand next to him and follows his gaze.“ What’s that?” he asks.

“He left that as my desktop background,” Stella says. “It’s Fuseli, _The Nightmare._ I suppose in his mind the woman is me.”

Burns points to the incubus perched atop the woman. “And that must be him.”

Stella shakes her head. “Not necessarily. I’ve been reading some of the critical literature on the painting. There are several prominent art historians who believe that that incubus represents the woman’s sublimated sexual desires as expressed through erotic dreams.”

That gets Jim’s attention. Stella swallows deeply but silently; he cannot know how much this next… _development_ has rattled her.

“I suppose that brings me to my next concern,” she says. “While he was in my room, Spector read my dream diary.”

Jim blanches. “You keep a diary?”

Stella sighs and refocuses her gaze on the printout that’s pinned to her wall. She had hoped, vainly, she now realizes, that Jim would not think less of her because of this particular habit. Of course, keeping a diary is a female-coded activity, so it’s viewed as an outlet for whining and over-the-top emotional outbursts. Men write in journals, and those suffer from no such associations. Perhaps she needs to change her vocabulary.

“I keep a journal,” Stella says quietly. “I’ve trained myself to wake up and record my dreams. It started as an investigative thing, but now I can’t stop. And Spector left me an entry.” She opens a folder and hands Jim a photocopy of Spector’s page in her diary. And her fingers tap the two other photocopies in the folder. Jim Burns was never meant to lay eyes on these pages.

“And there are two entries that I’ve made that particularly concern me. In part because they involve someone who is working on the investigation, and in part because they are… sexual in nature.”

She has to keep her hand from shaking as she hands Jim the folder. It is a significant mental effort, but ultimately a successful one.

As Jim reads, Stella recites the entries back to herself silently.

_I’m floating on my back in the Hilton pool, nude. Tanya kneels by the edge of the pool. I swim to her. I ask her if she likes the view, and she doesn’t answer. She stares at my body. I tell her to join me. She removes her scrub top and exposes her naked breasts to me. They are almost close enough to touch, but not quite. So I look._

And the second—

_I’m riding pillion on Tanya’s motorbike. She’s driving us to the morgue but has taken a wrong turn. We are riding into a desert instead. She stops the bike and turns to face me. Our thighs make contact. I grab her hips and start grinding her against me. We go faster and faster until we orgasm simultaneously._

Stella studies Jim’s face for his reaction. It is as she expects: confusion about this new information about her sexuality, jealousy that she should want to fuck someone who isn’t him, and arousal, of course. She watches his eyes cloud and wonders how long he will be able to control himself before he has to have a wank. Jesus.

That might be unfair, she thinks. She’s certainly masturbated over these two dreams, and multiple times. But these desires are _hers_ , and Jim Burns has no business spilling semen over them. And neither does Paul Spector, although God knows they both will.

Jim finally finds his voice. “Is this Professor Tanya Reed Smith? The pathologist?”

Stella nods. “The same. As I said, part of the investigation.”

Jim flicks through the two pages, as if there might be a report behind them explaining this new information. “Who’s seen this?”

“Spector, obviously. Forensics, although they are probably still fingerprinting and have not yet read it. Eastwood received it. And I forwarded it to DC McNally so someone on my team could refer to it, if needed.”

“So you’re concerned for Professor Reed Smith’s safety?”

Stella sits back down at her desk. She is suddenly so, so tired; she has been awake for nearly 24 hours. She is loath to explain this to him, but if she is going to protect Tanya she knows that she must.

She leans forward and looks up at him, makes sure he’s looking back. She disregards the desire in his eyes and barrels forward with what she needs to say. “I am. Spector probably intends to use whatever he’s found in the diary to mock me, rile me, humiliate me in some way. I think the first line of inquiry he would pursue would be the objects of my sexual fantasies.  I expect he didn’t count on them not always being men.“ She takes a long breath before saying the next part. “I fear I might have handed him his next target on a silver platter.”

Jim sighs and goes to sit opposite her. He tosses the folder back on her desk. “I can’t justify providing her with police protection. You know where we are with our budget, Stella. And we don’t even know for sure that Spector’ll know who Tanya is. ”

Stella chuckles mirthlessly. “It’s amazing what you can find when you Google ‘Tanya’ and ‘PSNI.’” She opens the folder and traces her handwriting with her pointer finger. She had these dreams before Annie Brawley’s attack, and it feels like an age ago.

“Doesn’t Professor Reed Smith have children?” Jim asks, interrupting her train of thought.

“Yes,” Stella responds. “Two children. And so does Rose Stagg.”

Jim scrubs a hand through his beard. “You’ve made your point. Draw me up a detailed proposal explaining why you think it’s warranted and get me a line-item budget. And I’ll take it under consideration.”

“Good. I’ve drawn up the budget already, actually,” Stella says, handing him a small stack of papers that she’s labelled _T. REED SMITH AND FAMILY._ “You’ll probably need to make arrangements for her ex-husband and daughters as well, just in case. And I expect the other report will be finished within the hour. Once you have it, can you expedite it?”

“I can’t…. I can’t make promises Stella.”

Stella can’t stop herself from scoffing. “You were certainly quick to arrange a detail for me when you heard there was a crime scene at the Merchant. You didn’t even know what had happened yet.”

Jim knows he’s been bested, so he gets up to leave. But he turns back to her just when he reaches the doorframe. He almost looks contrite, with face turned downward and his hands in his pockets. “For the record, I came here to apologize. For my behaviour. It was… inappropriate. I hope you will forgive me.”

Stella returns her focus to her computer.  She starts proofreading her protection proposal and does not look up from her work. “I’ll take it under consideration,” she says.

* * *

DC McNally shares a cramped office with DC Martin. Between the two of them, it’s a bit of a mess. Martin’s left a half-empty container of noodles on his desk, and an open drawer is stuffed with Kit-Kat wrappers and empty packets of gum. McNally, for all of her attention to her professional appearance, is not much better. Her coffee mug still has yesterday’s coffee in it, and the papers in her area might have been in piles at some point, but now they’re strewn on her desk and chair in no particular order.

Stella knows that it’s rude of her to invade another detective’s working space like this, but she’s been anxious to talk to McNally and go over the… _new evidence_ with her. She considers leaving a note on McNally’s desk, so McNally will see it as soon as she gets in, but that seems preposterously juvenile.

But then again, this woman, who she barely knows, is now privy to her most private thoughts. This entire situation is thoroughly preposterous.

Just then, McNally enters the room. She’s here almost two hours early; according to the clock on the wall, it’s 6:15 am. Her bun is looser than usual, and her button down is rumpled. She tries and fails to look unfazed by Stella’s presence in her office.

“Morning, ma’am.”

“You’re here early.” Stella leans back on McNally’s desk, trying to appear nonchalant. Perhaps she, too, is trying too hard.  

McNally grimaces. “I just saw your email, ma’am. I got in as quickly as I could.”

McNally looks around, curses when she notices the piles of papers on her chair and quickly moves to clear them away. Stella gestures for her to stop. “There’s no need,” she says gently.

So McNally sits on top of her papers, turns on her computer, and opens up the file containing Stella’s diary. She looks at Stella expectantly and waits for some kind of instruction.

Stella heaves a sigh and pulls up Martin’s chair. “I appreciate your help on this. I understand that this is an uncommon situation. I also want to thank you in advance for your discretion with this evidence. It will only be available to your colleagues on a need-to-know basis.”

McNally doesn’t say anything. She just nods gravely.

“Have you read the entire diary?” Stella asks.

“I have, ma’am. All of your entries and Spector’s entry at the end.”

Stella can’t quite look at McNally, so instead she stares at her hands. The thing is she _respects_ McNally, thinks she has a lot of potential as an investigator. She would have liked to advise McNally, perhaps even come out to McNally, but on her own terms. Spector has poisoned even this.

“Is there anything that I can clarify for you? About the nature of the diary?” asks Stella. She’s looking at McNally properly now.

McNally shakes her head. “No, ma’am. I don’t want any more information than Spector has. It’s irrelevant to the investigation.”

Stella smiles tightly. McNally’s right, and it almost makes her proud. “All right, then. Based on what you’ve read, what do you think Spector’s next move is?”

McNally picks up a pen from her desk and starts bouncing it against her palm. Her eyes shift to the ceiling, and Stella senses that McNally’s launched a thought-corralling process that is beyond her comprehension. She watches McNally, intrigued.

“He snuck into your room right under nose, so he wants you to know that even with a police force behind you, you’re absolutely helpless,” McNally begins. ”He chose that, frankly, _really ugly_ painting to tell you you’re helpless against your sexual desires, too. As soon as he figured out what the diary was, he probably targeted any dreams with sexual content. Even innocuous stuff, like noticing someone’s hands.”

Yes, of course, Stella thinks. The dreams about her father. “Go on,” Stella prompts.

“He wants you to know that you have the same desires as he does. He thinks you’re the same as him… didn’t he say as much when he called the first time? Except he’s strong enough to act on his desires, and you’re just stuck dreaming about them. So, based on that, I think he’s going to…” McNally stops abruptly and looks at Stella with giant, frightened eyes.

“Please,” Stella says.

“He’s going to target Professor Reed Smith, as the next victim,” McNally says, but there’s a quaver in her voice now. “He imagines that you want to, I don’t know, objectify and then dominate her. He projects that on you. So he’s going to indulge the desire that you’re too weak to even recognize. To prove he’s superior to you.”

The silence between them after McNally finishes her profile stretches for almost a full minute. Stella knows that she needs to process McNally’s analysis, but she can’t help but be impressed. Stella had been able to justify Spector’s likely stalking of Reed Smith on paper, but McNally just made a convincing case that puts Reed Smith’s life in danger.

Stella stands up and leans over McNally’s keyboard. “May I?”

McNally just nods. Stella pulls up the copy of her protection request that she saved on a shared drive, and she moves the cursor to an unfinished paragraph toward the bottom.

“I need you to type up exactly what you just told me,” Stella says. “And then I need you to email it back to me.”

McNally looks up at Stella. “You started a protection request. You thought the same thing.”

Stella hums in agreement. “But you articulated it better. Do you have a psychology degree?”

“I was studying psychology, ma’am,” McNally says softly. “But I dropped out of uni after my first year. That’s when I joined the police force.”

Stella considers pressing for more information, but with everything that’s happened, she lets McNally keep the reasons to herself. “That was a great profile you just gave me,” she says instead. “Do you know if Burns is reviewing your file for promotion to Detective Sergeant?”

McNally stares at Stella, slack-jawed. “No ma’am.”

“Help me oversee the surveillance over the Reed-Smith family. If you do well, then perhaps I will recommend you.”

McNally smiles brilliantly. “Yes, ma’am. And thank you.”

Stella nods. “Don’t forget, morning prayer at eight.”

She lingers at McNally’s door for a moment too long before going back to the bullpen to see if the men have arrived.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DCI Eastwood confronts some potted plants. Stella and Reed Smith confront the state of their relationship.

Stella knocks on Eastwood’s door about twenty minutes before morning prayer. After getting no answer but hearing a few strange thudding noises, she lets herself in.

“Do you have a moment?” she asks.

Eastwood is struggling with several large potted plants. He has somehow managed to rip off half of what appears to be an indoor hanging vine and as a result has knocked one of the other plants to the ground. He is now sitting on the floor next to a pile of dirt. Stella assesses the situation quickly and cannot quite reconstruct how this happened, but she has neither the time nor the energy to dwell on it.

“Are you all right down there?” She’s not sure what the protocol is helping colleagues in altercations with potted plants.

“Fine, fine,” Eastwood says, lifting himself off the floor and brushing the dirt off his trousers. “My wife got these plants for me. She didn’t want my basement office to be dull.”

“I see.”

Eastwood takes a moment to sit as his desk, and he gestures for Stella to take the seat opposite him. She eyes him, and then his laptop computer, warily. She can’t yet tell if he’s read the dream diary.

“Are you updated about what happened at the Merchant last night?” Stella asks.

That sobers Eastwood up quickly. “I am. I’ve just been catching up on the new evidence, actually. “

Stella raises an eyebrow at him. “Interesting reading?”

If Eastwood has enjoyed his voyeuristic glimpse into Stella’s psyche, then he doesn’t let it show. He shrugs. “Well, outside of the great lawsuit that you probably have against the Merchant, the whole incident doesn’t seem to tell us much. Certainly no insight into the location of Rose Stagg.”

Stella hums in approval. She lets herself be relieved at his unexpected tact.

“Although there is one thing unaccounted for,” Eastwood starts. Stella sets her mouth on a line and prepares herself for whatever he’ll say next. “Both you and Burns were a bit non-descriptive about the argument you had in your hotel room.”

Stella turns her eyes away from him, looks instead at the remaining potted plants. She had simply said that she and Burns had argued about his experiences during the 70s and 80s. She and Burns had agreed before they gave statements not to mention the broken nose, and Burns had intuited that Stella would not mention his admission to corruption or the sexual assault.

And he had been wrong.

“That’s what I wanted to speak with you about, actually,” Stella says. “The statements Jim and I gave were preliminary. I want to give a more detailed statement about the… conversation I had with Jim in my hotel room. But it’s sensitive material, and it might mean that we need to open another inquiry.”

Eastwood slams his laptop closed and glances at the door to make sure it is shut. Stella has his full attention now. “A corruption inquiry?”

Stella bites her lip, and then nods in the affirmative. “You were investigating Olsen and Breedlove’s connection to Monroe. It seems inevitable that you would discover information implicating Burns along the way. Although perhaps not all the information you need.”

“Is that what you have? Information implicating Burns?”

“I think,” Stella begins, “that we should sit down in the near future and have you record my full statement.”

Eastwood chuckles darkly. “Good thing my schedule has been so empty lately.”

“A serial murder case often has that effect,” Stella quips as she gets up.

“And it’s pretty convenient that Burns assigned me this case just as I was gaining ground on the internal affairs inquiry.” Eastwood tries to toss the comment off as an observation, but Stella can hear the cutting bitterness in his voice. She wonders if he’s motivated by a need for justice, his own ambition, or a personal vendetta. Or perhaps all three.

“Pretty convenient,” Stella echoes. “I’ll see you in ten minutes for morning prayer.”

She takes one last look at the dirt pile on the floor and then leaves Eastwood’s office. She realizes in retrospect that if she is going to report the sexual assault that there needs to be a woman in the room, ideally someone not connected to the Spector inquiry.

On her way to the bathroom, she spots a PC adjusting her cap and heading out for patrol. Stella smiles to herself. She has someone in mind.

* * *

Stella’s protection request for the Reed Smith family is approved by mid-afternoon. She and McNally plan to set up surveillance at both residences: Tanya’s first, and her ex-husband Ian’s after. McNally arranges an assumed identity and a hotel room on the other side of Belfast for Tanya, and Stella handpicks an undercover officer to be Tanya’s round-the-clock protection.

At around 5:30, Stella and McNally lead the surveillance team to Tanya’s townhouse in South Belfast.

Stella paces outside of Tanya’s front door, half hoping that she’s not home and they can have this conversation later, when she’s had some sleep and a swim and some time to stop reliving the moment when Tanya’s fingers interlaced with hers under the table at Bert’s Bar. But of course they have double-checked with the mortuary and with her schedule at the university; there is no reason for her not to be home.

Tanya comes out not long after they ring the bell. She’s changed into a comfy oversized jumper and grey cotton trousers, and Stella can’t speak right away because she is almost overcome with want. It doesn’t help that Tanya looks genuinely pleased to see her.

“Hi, Stella,” Tanya says, and smiles warmly.

Well, Stella thinks, this is all going to go to hell really quickly.

She moves to the side so that Tanya can see McNally behind her. “Hi. I’m not sure if you’ve met before, but this is DC Gail McNally. She’s working with me on Operation Musicman. We have something urgent that we need to discuss with you. May we come in?”

Tanya opens the door for them, and Stella watches her face as she starts realizing that something is truly wrong. If they needed forensic evidence, they would have called or visited her at the mortuary.  And if there were a crime scene, there is a procedure in place to direct her there. Tanya shuts the door behind them slowly, clearly in deep thought.

The three of them sit at Tanya’s kitchen table. Tanya half-heartedly offers them tea, and McNally fidgets with a piece of the morning’s newspaper. Stella clears her throat to break the tension.

“Tanya, last night just after 10 pm…. we have CCTV footage of a man resembling Paul Spector entering my room at the Merchant hotel. According to that same footage, he stayed for just over an hour. While he was there, he changed the desktop background on my computer, rearranged several pieces of my underwear, and read my personal journal. I’ve mentioned you in the journal several times, and by name. There is also information widely available that details your role in the investigation and establishes your connection to Rose Stagg. We don’t know what Spector will do with that information, but no doubt it will catch his interest. So as a precaution we have decided to place you under protection until Spector is caught.”

Stella takes a moment and lets the information sink in. Tanya covers her mouth with her hand and Stella sees the beginnings of tears in her eyes.  Her other hand on the table trembles just slightly.

Tanya closes her eyes, composes herself. “Stella, are you okay? Did he try to attack you?”

Stella shakes her head. She stops looking at Tanya’s hands. “I’m fine,” she says.

Tanya nods almost imperceptibly and then leans back so she’s addressing both Stella and McNally. “The information linking me to Rose Stagg was always available online. Why is it more dangerous now?”

Stella keeps her voice as even as she can. “The journal is a dream diary. The entries about you are explicitly sexual. That will _certainly_ be of interest to him.”

Tanya looks down and blushes, and Stella’s briefly reminded of sitting with Tanya in that car, and Tanya’s touch-- the pad of her finger so gentle on Stella’s nail. God, that was more erotic than any of Stella’s dreams. Sometimes she takes that touch, imagines it everywhere.

“What does this mean for me?” Tanya says, and it stuns Stella out of her reverie. She didn’t even realize she was mentally so far away.

Stella glances sideways, prompting McNally to answer the question. “We’ve arranged a place for you in a hotel a few miles out of city centre. You’ll check in under an assumed name, and you’ll have an undercover officer with you at all hours. We’ll provide you with a car and anything else you might need. Meanwhile, we’ll keep this house under surveillance and inform you straightaway if there’s any suspicious activity.”

“Okay,” Tanya says quietly. “What about my children?”

McNally looks at Stella nervously, so Stella takes over. “We are stopping at your ex-husband’s apartment when we are done here. Spector is deeply averse to hurting small children, but we are setting up surveillance outside your ex-husband’s apartment as a precautionary measure. It’s best that your daughters stay there until this has passed.”

Tanya is now biting her lip so hard that Stella’s almost concerned she’ll draw blood. McNally’s face crumples, perhaps in sympathy, and she adds: “The team is discreet and in plain clothes. They’re not going to alarm your children, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“Due respect, detective, but you don’t know what does and doesn’t alarm my children,” Tanya says carefully. There’s a rasping edge in her voice that Stella has never heard before. “Detective Superintendent, may I have a word in private?”

Stella hears McNally mumble something about advising the team and watches her return to the car. With McNally gone, Stella’s hyperaware of exactly how her hands are positioned on the table and how close they are to Tanya’s at any given moment. There’s a long, uneasy silence.

Tanya finally speaks. “My youngest gets nervous easily. Ian and I are going to have to figure out exactly what to tell her.”

Stella nods. She senses that it’s her turn to speak, and she does not want to say what she knows she has to say next. But it’s standard procedure for people they need to protect.

So Stella takes a deep breath: in and out. “It might be worth considering leaving Belfast for some time. It could lessen the anxiety for you and your family. I’d imagine you still have family in or near London?”

Tanya’s eyes narrow slightly, and Stella realizes that it was the wrong thing to say. That Tanya was probably looking for comfort in this terrible situation or at least closure from last night. And here she is, essentially throwing Croydon back in Tanya’s face. _Jesus_.

“Ian teaches sixth form, and it’s too close to A-levels for him to leave,” Tanya says coolly. “And the girls can’t just leave school. And I can’t… I _wouldn’t_ just _go_. Not with Rose still missing.”

God, Stella thinks, I’ve fucked up.

“I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have asked. And I… I wanted to apologize for last night as well. For putting you in danger, however unintentionally. And for misinterpreting our relationship.”

“You didn’t misinterpret anything,” Tanya says, almost to herself.  “I was up all last night, trying to figure out how to say this to you.” She swallows, steels herself.  “I wanted to go upstairs with you, Stella. But I would have never been able to just… sleep with you once and then let it go. I respect that you can do that, but I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

Tanya’s eyes are pleading for some response from Stella, and Stella can’t think of a single thing to say. She doesn’t think she can articulate exactly what she wanted from Tanya last night, or exactly where she wanted it to go. She was seeking something that was both physical and emotional, and she supposes it was foolish of her to expect Tanya to give her that all in one night.

“There is absolutely no need for you to apologize,” Stella says. She fights a strong impulse to reach for Tanya’s hand.

She can tell immediately that this is not what Tanya wanted to hear. Stella can’t remember the last time she was so thoroughly unmoored during a conversation, unable to locate the other person’s thoughts or feelings. The best she can do is meet Tanya’s gaze and silently entreat her to say whatever she’s thinking.

“That is what you wanted? Just the one night?” Tanya asks.

Stella sighs, cards a hand through her hair. She could say yes, and Tanya wouldn’t hold it against her. But it seems disingenuous for her to say that because if they had slept together… would she have been satisfied? Physically? Emotionally?

Tanya leans in and brushes her fingers against Stella’s. “If it’s not, then we can talk about it.”

The contact sends a current of heat through Stella’s body. Now that she’s certain the attraction is mutual, she wants so badly to see it through. But to what end? To potentially reveal Tanya’s location to Spector? To recklessly endanger them both?

“It doesn’t seem to matter much now,” Stella says, punctuating her resignation with a small sigh. “Spector is now aware that I’m attracted to you, so starting something would make us both vulnerable to him.  _More_ vulnerable to him.”

Tanya removes her hand from Stella’s and gets up from her chair. “I need to call Ian. Warn him. Figure out what to tell the girls.”

“Tanya…”

Tanya’s already halfway out of the kitchen. Before she leaves the room, she turns around, looks at Stella, and heaves a sigh. “Of course it _matters_ , Stella.”

Tanya disappears into the house, and Stella slouches in her chair and crosses her arms across her chest. Yes, that did go straight to hell.

Eventually, she gets up. She finds McNally and the team outside the house, and the surveillance set up goes without a hitch. Tanya’s bodyman whisks her off to her hotel, and Stella and McNally return to their car and prepare for their visit to Ian’s flat.

“She seemed pretty upset,” McNally says as Stella starts the engine.

“Well, wouldn’t you be?” Stella responds drily. She is so fucking tired.

McNally doesn’t say anything. They both know that what she really meant was that Tanya seemed upset _at Stella._

Stella’s sure she violates at least one traffic law on the way to Ian Smith’s apartment. She’s also sure she doesn’t care.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gibson and her team clash over how to handle Spector's encounters with the Tylers. Stella learns the truth about who is counselling Annie Brawley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Discussion of Domestic Violence, Discussion of sexual assault and trauma, depiction of a character with PTSD. A panic attack is explicitly described. 
> 
> All of the verbatim dialogue doesn't belong to me.

The PSNI has set Stella up with a new hotel and a detail of a few men. She knows they are there to keep her safe, and that they are friendly and trained not to ask questions about where she goes and whom she sees on her off time. But the fact that Jim arranged for them makes her uneasy, and she can’t shake that sensation, not even when she’s alone in bed.

Especially when she’s alone in bed.

She sleeps lightly and dreams about Tanya’s daughters. She did not see them when she and McNally set up surveillance at Tanya’s ex’s flat, but she did hear them. As she spoke to Ian, she heard them laughing and shouting about which one of them was the queen.

In her dream, Stella’s swimming in a lake. She can’t see where it begins or where it ends. She has a plastic crown clenched in her fist, and she has to find them, she has to find the girls before they drown.

When she wakes up, she reaches for her leather diary before she is even fully conscious. It’s not there, but she _needs_ to write it all down; the repetitive motions of writing will clear her head, dispel the images. Eventually she scribbles the dream down on hotel stationary and chucks the pad of paper in the room’s lockbox.

This won’t do at all.

* * *

Martin and McNally are ready to brief Stella on Spector’s most recent professional activity as soon as she gets to the station.  

“Spector’s credentials as a bereavement counsellor are legitimate,” McNally starts. She flips through her notes and furrows her brow. “They were pretty thoroughly checked out when he was hired by the local authority. But there are two things we need to follow up on. Spector had been counselling a married couple…”

Martin takes over without preamble. “James and Elizabeth Tyler. Their son died of meningitis at ten years old. Jimmy Tyler is known to us, ma’am.” He hands Stella a copy of James Tyler’s criminal record. A quick glance tells Stella what she needs to know: he leads a Loyalist gang.

“After the son’s death, James became a bit free with his fists where Liz was concerned,” Martin continues. “Spector advised Liz to report him to the domestic violence unit. She was reluctant. James was out of prison on license, anything like that would put him back inside. Spector was persuasive, and Liz made the call. She’s now in a woman’s shelter…”

“… In Bangor.” McNally says, effectively cutting Martin off. “James is out of prison on bail and tagged with curfew conditions. But listen to this: Spector had a run in with James Tyler after paying an unscheduled visit to Liz when she was home alone. This was the day of the Joseph Brawley murder.”

Stella’s been taking notes, and that piece of information makes her look up. “The visit to Liz or James’s run in with Spector? Or both?”

“James’s run-in with Spector, ma’am,” Martin says.

Stella scans her notes and considers her options. Liz could provide crucial information about Spector’s mindset and movements before his attack on the Brawleys, but sending Martin and McNally could reveal her location to someone who has no business knowing it. Stella flips a page and writes _Interview Liz Tyler but only once we earn it, _and then turns back to Martin and McNally.

“We should interview Liz, but we shouldn’t interview her right away. Pay a visit to Jimmy Tyler first, get him to tell you exactly what happened with Spector.“

McNally looks up from her own notebook, puzzled. “Ma’am? You don’t want us to interview Liz first? We’re not going to get anything objective from James Tyler about Spector, ma’am. Spector made an unscheduled home visit, and Tyler thought Spector slept with his wife. He would certainly still think that, and him and his people, ma’am, they don’t cooperate with the police.”

Stella looks McNally in the eye. She’s unsure whether to praise her audacity or reprimand her for being reckless with this woman’s safety. “He’s out on bail. Just keep reminding him that. And we _will_ interview Liz Tyler. I just don’t feel confident right now that we can question her and still keep her safe. We could leave her vulnerable to both James Tyler and Spector, and no woman deserves to be in those crosshairs.”

McNally returns Stella’s gaze, and Stella can tell immediately that she’s unconvinced. She makes a mental note to send McNally to the refuge in Bangor when the time comes. So she can see these women and how they live. So she can hear about what scares them most.

Stella flips to the first page of her notes and takes another look at them. “What was the second thing we needed to follow up on?”

“Spector’s still registered as a freelance bereavement counsellor,” Martin says.

 _Why the hell didn’t you tell me that first?_ Paul Spector _would_ do something as egotistical and stupid as counselling Annie Brawley after attacking her; it would be his way of gloating. Stella almost knocks over her chair in her effort to get to Rick the tech guy in the adjacent office. She can see McNally following her in her peripheral vision, but she pays it no mind.

“Rick, do you know who’s guarding Annie Brawley today?” Stella asks.

“Hagstrom, ma’am.”

“Can you get her on the phone?” Stella chews at her nail as Rick makes the call. McNally appears next to her and is about to talk, but Stella holds up her hand to stop her. It can wait.

“Hagstrom.”

“It’s Gibson. Do you have access to the list of therapists who are working with Annie?”

“I think the hospital is looking for a new trauma counsellor, ma’am, so for now it’s just the one therapist. She is working closely with a psychiatrist.”  Hagstrom’s tone is clipped and betrays nothing.

Stella realizes she is leaning slightly on Rick’s desk, and she quickly straightens her spine. “Annie’s therapist, what’s her name?”

“It’s a man, ma’am,” Hagstrom replies. Stella tenses. “Paul Spector.”

 _Fuck it all to hell._ “How many times has he been in to see her?

“Just once, ma’am.”

Stella starts moving to leave the office, but then she remembers her phone is attached to a cord. _Fucking shit_. “When is he next scheduled to see Annie?”

There’s a rustle of paper on Hagstrom’s side of the line. “Noon today.”

So Stella has three hours. It’s more than nothing, but _Jesus Christ_ , they cannot endanger and re-traumatize Annie Brawley. “I’ll be there with a team in half an hour. Whatever happens, don’t let Spector in to see Annie Brawley under any circumstances.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Stella hangs up the phone, and she nearly collides with McNally in her haste to get out of Rick’s office. McNally dodges just in time and, ever persistent, continues to follow Stella. “Ma’am, we’re not finished talking about Liz Tyler.”

Stella turns around and faces McNally. “I thought I was clear.”

“You were, ma’am,” McNally says. She takes a step backward and slouches her shoulders, making her entire body look smaller. When she speaks again, her voice is much softer. “But we still need to make sure Spector doesn’t have the address of the refuge. If we’re waiting on interviewing Liz Tyler to protect her, then we need to protect her. Full stop.”

Stella’s taken aback. McNally’s pushing where many DCs would have shut up and taken orders. And Stella can’t quite locate why: personal ambition? Dogged devotion to the cause? Both? Neither?

Stella meets McNally’s eyes, which are wide and expectant. “Call Spector’s former employer,” Stella says. “Find out if Spector has that information, and if he doesn’t, instruct them not to release it under any circumstances.”

“And if he does, ma’am?” McNally asks.

Stella gestures for McNally to come closer. She does, and Stella drops her voice. “We may have an opportunity to put Spector under surveillance soon. So if he seeks out Liz, we’ll know about it. But if we do lose him, we’ll get someone in there undercover.”

“Yes, ma’am,” McNally says.

Stella nods in recognition, and then she runs out of the office to talk to Covert Operations. She’s listening to her mobile phone’s dial tone and climbing up a second flight of stairs (fucking basement office) when she finds herself thinking about DC McNally.  Wondering how many times she pushed back and hit a brick wall.

* * *

Stella’s sitting in a Covert Operations car and seething. They’re running fifteen minutes late, and there’s no cell service in the basement carpark at the hospital. That, and Annie Brawley doesn’t have a trauma counsellor, doesn’t have a sexual assault counsellor, and clearly wasn’t given exclusively female care. Stella’s not an accredited counsellor, but even _she_ knows that female victims of sexual assault should only ever be offered counselling and psychiatric care from female doctors and therapists.

But Spector’s appointment with Annie is in two hours, and there is no time to dress down the hospital administrators. Besides, so much of the fault lies with the PSNI. God knows they should have been more vigilant.

A man from the surveillance team taps on the car window and gestures for Stella to come inside. Stella puts in a nude-coloured earpiece and small portable mic that will connect her to control, grabs the few folders she has, and prepares to face the woman she has now failed for a second time.

She doesn’t need directions to get to Annie’s room. She gets in the lift and presses the button for the fourth floor once, twice, three times. The lift takes its time lurching into movement, so Stella opens one of the folders and looks through the materials. The first and biggest folder is an information booklet for The Rowan Sexual Assault Referral Centre, which the PSNI helps run and is located about twenty minutes outside Belfast. The plan, so long as Annie consents to it, is to move Annie to the Rowan and keep her there under an assumed name.

Hagstrom is still positioned outside of Annie’s door. She stands at attention, as if that alone could make up for their lapse in protection. Stella nods in greeting; they’ll talk later.

Stella finds Annie curled up in bed with a copy of _Harry Potter and the Chamber Secrets_. She knocks on the doorframe, and Annie jolts up and gasps for air.

Stella winces. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No, no,” Annie says. She places the book on her nightstand next to the flowers, balloons, and get well cards. “I’m happy to see you.”

Stella’s not convinced. She notices that Annie has two hair elastics around her wrist now. “Likewise. May I sit?”

Annie motions to her hospital bed. “Please.”

So Stella sits down, and carefully trains her expression to be as neutral as possible. “Annie, the PSNI has been in close contact with your doctors, and we feel like now is the appropriate time to have you transfer facilities. Because your attacker has not been apprehended yet, we want to move you to a secure location and set you up under an assumed name. I’ve brought some literature for you to look through. Right now, we’re recommending that you move to Antrim Area Hospital where they have a sexual assault clinic on site. You’ll have access to complete medical care, full police protection, and most importantly—“

There’s static in her earpiece, and then Stella hears a voice start broadcasting. “Room Two to Control. Target approaching hospital’s pedestrian entrance from the north side.”

“Shit,” Stella says as quietly as she can manage. _What the hell is he doing here two hours early?_

Annie looks up from the pamphlets, startled. “What, what’s wrong?”

No use trying to make it sound procedural now. “We have to get you out of this room. I don’t have time to explain.”

Hagstrom comes in. “Control is recommending you use the ladies’ room across the hall.”

“Thank you,” Stella says as she gathers up the folders and prepares to lead Annie to ladies’ room. But before she goes, she turns and confers very quietly with Hagstrom. “Where is Annie?”

“She’s just been approved for treatment with a specialist neurologist in Dublin. She’s on her way now, and she’ll be there for a few weeks. We’ll contact you in a month’s time if we still need your services,” Hagstrom recites.

Stella nods. “Good. You’ll do fine.”

Stella rushes Annie in the ladies’ room, which is really just a toilet, a sink, and a shelf of urine collection cups. She locks the door behind her and leans in to hear the conversation.

“What’s happening?” Annie asks, and all Stella can do is shush her.

“Room Five to Control,” a voice from the earpiece says. “Target ascending in the lift. I repeat, target ascending.”

From what Stella can recall of the hospital’s layout, this means that Spector is mere seconds away from—

“Mr Spector,” Hagstrom says. She sounds confident. Good. “PC Hagstrom. We met before?”

“Yes.”

“Aren’t you early, Mr. Spector? According to the schedule I have, you’re due in to see Annie at noon?”

There are a few moments of silence before he speaks. Stella listens for the wheels turning. “Annie said something troubling to me during our last session. I am concerned she might be experiencing suicide ideation, and I was hoping we could start having more frequent sessions.”

Just at that moment, Annie collapses against a wall with both hands over the mouth. She is simultaneously gasping for air and trying to keep quiet, and her eyes start to redden and drip with the effort. She fumbles for her hair elastics but she can’t seem to grasp them.

“… Psychiatrist is making the journey with her so there is no need to worry…” Hagstrom tells Spector, but her voice gets far away as Stella sits down next to Annie. 

“Annie, can you hear me?” Stella asks. Her voice is as soft and even as she can make it.

Annie nods several times. The voice in Stella’s earpiece is still talking, _room 7 to control target walking to the lift_ , but so long as it communicates information about Spector leaving the building, then Stella can remove her primary focus from it for a bit. Annie needs her right now.

“Good. Can you remove your hands from your mouth for me?”

It takes a few seconds, but Annie lowers her trembling arms and puts her hands on the floor. Her mouth is wide open, as if she’s been silently screaming, and there is a steady stream of tears running from her eyes.

“Very good,” Stella says. “You’re doing well, Annie. Now there’s something I want you to do with me. Is that okay?”

Annie manages to nod, but only barely. Stella grabs the folders and figures they’ll do for this exercise. She empties all the folders and straightens the papers into a pile.

“Good.  Can you count these papers and pamphlets with me?”

Stella repositions herself so she’s sitting across from Annie. Annie’s still crying and hyperventilating, but in Stella’s experience a slow counting and breathing exercise can allay the worst symptoms of a panic attack.

“Okay, Annie. And as you count these, can you take a deep breath in through your nose? And then release it through your mouth? Like this…”

Stella demonstrates: deep breath in, deep breath out. She takes the first paper and puts it on the floor. “One. Okay?”

“Okay,” Annie whispers. She’s talking, always a good sign. She wipes her tears on the back of her hand and takes a shaky breath in.

And then, after some time, she breathes out again. “Two.”

“Yes, good job, Annie. Can you do the next one for me?”

She continues through ten. Hagstrom knocks with the all clear at seven, but Stella lets Annie continue her counting. Eventually, Annie stops crying, and by twenty she’s focused enough on the papers that Stella thinks she can move Annie into her room without incident.

“How are you feeling, Annie?” Stella asks.

“I thought I was going to pass out,” Annie says, more to the wall than to Stella.

“Do you want to move back to your room or do you want to stay here?” Hagstrom peaks her head in and gives a small thumbs up. Stella’s earpiece has stopped broadcasting, so Spector has left the hospital. He’s now being followed by the surveillance team, and Eastwood is with Control. Stella’s sure Eastwood will be positively gleeful reporting this to Burns.

Annie snaps one of the elastics on her wrist. “I want to stay here.”

Stella nods. “Okay. Do you feel ready to talk about it?”

Annie swallows and then pants, as if she can’t get something down. “I remembered. I remembered his voice. From the bar, when I lost my driver’s license. He was there.”

It’s such a huge victory, but Stella can’t quite feel elated. They’ll have to get a proper statement from Annie, so they might have to put her through this all over again. Stella pulls out her notebook from her coat pocket; at least she can get something now.

“Can you tell me what you remember from that night? In the bar?” Stella asks.

“He came up next to me and reached under my chair. He grabbed my purse and asked if it was mine. I said yes and he handed it back to me. I didn’t think anything of it because I got drunk that night and figured I just lost it. And he was… nice. Calm. Just like he was with me here. Nice. Calm. _Non-judgmental.”_

The last word comes out as a hiss. Stella leans in, thinks of saying something but then decides against it. Better to let Annie talk.

“I told him about the video that I put up… on that website.” Another strained, gasping swallow. Annie snaps the band on her wrist and continues. “So he knows that I like… what I like in bed. He knows… he knows… he knows that I like men and women!”

And here Annie breaks. She covers her face with her hands and starts weeping. Stella puts away her notebook and moves so that she’s sitting next to Annie instead of across from her. Very, very cautiously, Stella places her hand on Annie’s shoulder.

She is painfully aware of the one thing she can say that might make this a little easier for them both. And almost no thought goes in to the decision to say it.

“Annie,” Stella whispers, “I like men and women too.”

Annie looks up and locks eyes with Stella. “ _What?_ ”

Stella scoots back and glances away. It’s strange how coming out to a new person can still almost make her feel _timid_. Like she hasn’t been doing this for almost thirty years.

She finds Annie’s gaze again, holds it. “I identify as bisexual. I have since I was sixteen. And I understand what it means to trust someone with that part of your identity and then have that trust betrayed. It’s a violation. There’s no other word for it.”

“Thank you,” Annie says. It’s barely audible, but Stella still hears it. “Thank you for telling me. And you can trust me. Not to share it.”

“Thank you,” Stella echoes. There’s a moment of comfortable silence between them, and then Stella comes back to herself.  Annie could still be in danger, and she needs to get out of this hospital.  Stella will call Control, get a location for Paul Spector, and then transport Annie out of Belfast as quickly and quietly as possible.

“Annie, do you consent to moving to the Rowans facility? We’ll provide you with round the clock protection, and full medical and therapeutic care—that includes trauma counselling, sexual assault counselling, bereavement counselling, and LGBT counselling if you desire. We’ll take care of you properly, and then when you’re ready, I can visit you, and you can tell me everything you remember.”

Annie nods. “Okay.”

“Okay. I think we can leave the bathroom now, hmm?”

“Yeah,” Annie says.

Annie doesn’t need Stella’s help getting off the floor, even though Stella offers it. She hauls herself up and flashes Stella a trembling, watery smile.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team begins its robust surveillance of Paul Spector, and Stella reports ACC Burns' sexual assault of her to...um... the police.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer because I can't believe how cute Dani Ferrington is and it's really distracting. 
> 
> Triggers: A physical assault is mentioned. A sexual assault is reported in detail.

Now that they have Spector under surveillance, it is tempting for Stella to spend every moment of her time with Control.

For now, his movements are banal and tell them nothing about Rose Stagg’s location. He goes to the gym. He goes to buy food. He goes to a bookstore and purchases a few books; Riordan from the Bravo surveillance team tells her one of them appears to be by Aristotle. It’s so nauseatingly typical that rolls her eyes at whoever happens to be in the vicinity. Still, she should probably ask Dani to pick her up copies of Aristotle’s works so she can mark them for passages that might resonate with Spector and help him justify his crimes.

And then she remembers: Dani’s back on the street.

She wasn’t lying when she said she couldn’t spare Dani. Without Dani, she’s feeling her way blindly through the social and bureaucratic intricacies of the PSNI. How, for example, can she procure periodic updates about Tanya’s wellbeing under protection without everyone knowing about it? Who does she talk to learn more about DC McNally’s professional history with the PSNI?

And who in the human resources department will take her seriously when she makes a formal sexual assault complaint against an assistant chief constable?

She eyes Eastwood, who is chatting with Rick the tech guy across the room. If they don’t sit down together and take her statement before recovering Rose and arresting Spector, they might not get the opportunity. Stella taps her pen against her palm and listens for the next update.

“Bravo to control. Target travelling north on Northumberland Street, stopping in front of the Oz Hotel. Local address 20 Agnes Street. Target parking his car. Target entering the building through the main entrance.”

Mary, who is leading Control with her usual competence and efficiency, leans into her microphone. “Control to Bravo. Copy that. A second vehicle is on its way.”

Stella nods as Mary manipulates a few switches on her dashboard. “We’ll need to get as much CCTV footage as we can get from this hotel,” Stella says. “And can we set up someone in a room there?”

“I’ll get Martin to put in the CCTV request,” Eastwood replies. Stella hadn’t noticed that he had joined them. “And you and I can talk about putting someone in the hotel.”

It appears that Eastwood is as eager as she is to get that statement.

Just then, a harried McNally enters the control room. She has DC Martin in tow, and he shuffles behind her in confusion.

“Ma’am, DC Martin and I have just arrested James Tyler,” McNally reports. She’s flushed, breathing heavily, and clearly quite proud of herself, even though that’s not what Stella sent them to do.

“What? _Why_?”

“Assault on a police officer, ma’am,” McNally says. “We tried questioning him about Spector, but he kept turning the conversation back to Liz. He got it in his head that we knew where she was, and he wouldn’t give it up. He shoved me against his exercise equipment and—“

“I tried to stop him, ma’am,” Martin cuts in, and McNally glares at him.

“And I soon as I recovered,” McNally continues, now gritting her teeth. “I arrested him. Assaulting a police constable in the execution of her duty.”

Stella furrows her brow. She’s not sure yet if this is a positive development. “He’ll get out on bail.”

“Not for some time, ma’am,” McNally says. Her eyes are glittering. Martin stares at his feet, looking almost dopey in comparison.

Stella crosses her arms. “So that leaves you free to interview Liz Tyler.”

“Yes, ma’am. And Jimmy Tyler is more likely to cooperate with us from behind bars, ma’am,” McNally replies. Stella notices bruises on McNally’s neck, and Stella suspects they continue down her shoulders and arms.

“Gail, a word?” she asks and tilts her head toward the hallway. McNally’s entire demeanor changes: she bows her head and scratches at the back of her neck. A piece of hair falls out of its bun and settles behind her ear.

When they reach the hallway, McNally isn’t at all willing to start the conversation. So Stella does. “I need you to assure me that you did not set out to deliberately provoke James Tyler during this interview.”

“I didn’t, ma’am.” Her voice is brittle, perilously close to angry. “We mentioned Liz and he just… snapped. You can have Martin write up the report if you need to be sure, ma’am.”

Stella sighs. She doesn’t know what kind of officer McNally is. Not yet, anyway. “Are you all right?”

“Am I… what?”

Stella tries to smile, but it comes out wrong. She shakes her head. “We put ourselves in danger in our line of work, and we do so of our own free will. But we cannot forget to take care of ourselves and look out for ourselves in the process.”

McNally looks at Stella for the first time since the start of the conversation. “Thank you, ma’am.”

 _I needed to hear that_ , she doesn’t say, but it lingers between them nonetheless.

* * *

DCI Eastwood is waiting for her outside of her office door.

“I believe I’m owed a conversation,” he says.

“What, about whether or not we want a man in Spector’s hotel?” she counters. Of course they want someone in Spector’s hotel. They both know that, and they both know that it’s not what they’re really going to talk about.

“That would be the one,” says Eastwood. There’s a lightness in his tone that buoys Stella. She’ll need to hold on to that; this conversation is not going to be easy.

“I have a few reports I have to look through first. Catch up with me in twenty minutes?” Eastwood nods. He hands her a folder of papers, and she opens it to find that it’s just a few pieces of scrap paper, a police report from two months ago, and a note from Eastwood: _Interview Room B16._

She glances up at the clock: 5:15 pm. Ferrington has a shift that ends at 4:30 and another that begins at 6:30, and she knows that PCs tend to remain at the station and use the various training and exercise facilities when they have short breaks. So she heads to the entrance of the ladies’ locker room and waits.

Sure enough, Dani arrives freshly showered and in casual clothes just ten minutes later. Upon seeing her, Stella grants her an uneasy smile and gestures for her to come over.

“You looking for me, ma’am?”

“I am,” Stella says. Dani runs a hand through her damp hair; she looks charming in her t-shirt and loose mesh shorts. It reminds Stella of her own days as a PC, when she spent many hours at the gym gazing hungrily at the women lifting weights or doing stretches. Usually nothing much came of it, but there were a few notable exceptions. She realizes she is curious, perhaps inappropriately so, about what Dani’s experience has been. Who she talks to, who she trusts, who she’s out to. Who she dates.

“I have a shift in like… an hour, I think?” Dani squints, trying to work out the timing in her head. “You need something, ma’am?”

Stella flinches; of course Dani would never expect Stella to see her just to ask her how’s she’s doing on the street. “I do. I need to give a statement about a development in the Spector inquiry, and I would like you to sit in.”

Dani chews her lip and considers this. She’s probably thinking, correctly, that there is no reason to bring a patrol officer into an investigative interview. “Is it about my involvement in the case?”

“No. It’s actually about an event that involves me directly. _Personally_.”

Dani nods. Stella knows that the incident at the Merchant has been hot gossip in the PSNI, so it’s not surprising that Dani’s familiar with it. “I don’t understand why you need me, ma’am?”

Stella chooses her next words very carefully. “There are certain situations in which the person being interviewed is permitted to have a woman, usually a friend or sometimes a female officer, in the room with her. I believe this is one of those situations.”

Stella watches Dani’s eyes widen and her mouth drop as she understands what Stella means by this. She tries to talk, but she keeps getting caught on the first word and starting over.

Finally, she just decides to say it. “Sexual offense situations, ma’am?”

Stella inclines her head, but it’s not enough to register as a nod. It’s harder than she had expected, affirming this for Dani. “I told you I trusted you. And I still do. And you have time now, before your shift starts?”

“I do,” says Dani. And they walk in silence to the interview room that Eastwood had designated for them.

Eastwood has the audio recorder set up for them when they arrive, but narrows his eyes when he sees Dani enter the room behind Stella. Stella raises her eyebrows in silent reply, and she motions for Dani to pull up a chair and have a seat on her side of the interview table.

Eastwood studies them. “And this is, who, your solicitor?” he asks.

Stella clears her throat gently. She’s not going to indulge his condescending humour, not today. “I believe you know PC Danielle Ferrington. She’s here at my request.  Considering the nature of my statement, I thought it would be best if there were a woman in the room.”

Eastwood looks down at his blank note-taking paper. Stella sees him move his lips in a silent _Jesus Christ_ and waits for him to collect himself.

When he’s ready, he starts the recorder. “Today is Monday, May 7, 2012, 5:32 pm. In attendance at this interview are Detective Chief Inspector Matthew Eastwood, Detective Superintendent Stella Gibson, and PC Danielle Ferrington. Now, I will ask you all to state your names for voice recognition purposes. I’ll start: Matt Eastwood, DCI”

“Stella Gibson, DSI.”

Dani smiles tightly and leans in too close to the recording. “Danielle Ferrington, PC.”

“Good. Now, let’s start right with the events of Saturday night. Stella—“

Stella cuts him off. “For this interview, I think I would like to be referred to by my professional title.”

Eastwood nods. Dani turns her head towards Stella and knits her eyebrows in concern. Stella’s sure she must be imagining the worst possible situation. Stella tries to placate Dani with her eyes, but she’s not sure it works.

“All right,” Eastwood says. “Detective Superintendent, can you describe the events of Saturday night the 5th, starting at around 9 pm?”

Stella takes a long, steadying breath. “At that time, 9 pm, I was just finishing up work at a crime scene. We were recovering evidence from the Belfast Hills, where we had triangulated the call from Rose Stagg’s mobile phone. I was supervising the scene until about 9:15, at which point Forensics packed up and I returned to my room at the Merchant Hotel.”

“Once you got to the hotel, what did you do?” Eastwood, to his credit, is keeping his tone as impersonal as possible.

“I showered, changed, and ordered room service. The special chicken salad and a cup of tea,” she says. All of her receipts from that order are now in evidence. “I then met Professor Tanya Reed Smith at Bert’s Bar for a drink. I had to excuse myself for about seven minutes to listen in on a surveillance incident at the Spector home.”

Eastwood nods. “The Benedetto girl.”

“Indeed,” Stella says. “I returned, finished up my drink with Professor Reed Smith, and went back to my room. I believe it was 11 pm.”

“Do you remember what you talked about, with Professor Reed Smith?” Eastwood asks gently.

Stella starts tracing the edge of the table with her pointer finger. The gesture, as small as it is, prevents her pulse from quickening. “We spoke primarily about Rose. Tom’s appeal. I asked about her relationship with Tom, actually, and there’s no affair. You heard silences because they were watching videos of Rose. He wanted some help with the appeal, and I imagine that was quite… difficult. For them,” Stella finishes. So long as Eastwood doesn’t persist, there’s no reason to give him the complete details of the encounter.  Retain the final shreds of her and Tanya’s privacy.

“All right. So you went back to your room. What happened then?”

Stella glances at Dani, who offers Stella a small, hesitant smile. “I started getting undressed. And there was a knock at the door. I saw it was ACC Burns, so I opened the door. I assumed he had important information about the inquiry to disturb me so late, and in person.”

Eastwood’s brow furrows. “And that wasn’t the case?”

Stella shakes her head. “No. He asked to come in, for five minutes. I asked him why. He said it would just be five minutes. So I let him in. It was only when he walked through the door that I smelled the alcohol on his breath. I asked him if he had been drinking, and he said that he had been. He asked if I had ice, which I did not. He poured me a glass of wine, which I refused, and poured himself a glass of scotch, a large one. I asked him...” Stella pauses for a moment. She’s not sure Eastwood knows about Jim’s alcoholism.

“You asked him what, Detective Superintendent?”

Well, if Jim had wanted to keep it secret, then maybe he shouldn’t have come to her room drunk in the first place. “I asked him how many years he had been sober. He said five. And then I asked if he should phone his AA sponsor.”

Eastwood doesn’t react, but Dani’s eyes widen. Stella pushes on. “But at that point it was clearly too late for that. He then said that he had just had a call from Eastwood. That is, you.” 

Eastwood hums to himself. “I was on the phone with ACC Burns from around 10:15 to 10:30 so yes, that would be correct. And what did he relate to you about the phone call?”

Stella leans back into her chair and folds her arms over her chest. “He said that you told him that Aaron Monroe was back in custody. That he had made an attempt to kill his father in the hospital.”  And he was panting thickly at this point, she recalls.  At the time, she had wondered if he had gotten impatient with the elevator and run up the stairs.

Stella swallows. Dani catches her eye, smiles again. Stella raises her eyebrow at Dani; who exactly is she trying to reassure? “He then said,” Stella continues, “and this is as close to his exact wording as I can remember, that, quote, it was me who tipped off Morgan that Eastwood had warrants out for his son.”

The three of them are silent for several seconds.  Dani stares at her hands. Eastwood raises his eyebrows and cocks his head a bit; he is not surprised.

The moment passes, and Stella moves on. “I told him that I didn’t need to know that, and he tried to explain his reasoning. He said that he was trying to out maneuver Monroe senior and make his place on the Police Executive untenable. If Aaron knew that it was him who tipped off the father, and if Aaron told you, then his career, ACC Burns’, that is, was finished.”

Eastwood, who has now started taking notes in earnest, stops and looks up. “Burns said that last bit?”

“Yes. And he said something else. He said that you had called him a weak man. Did you?”

Eastwood sets down his pen in front of his notebook so it sits between him and Stella, a makeshift barrier, He has, Stella realizes, just figured out how the encounter devolved into a sexual assault. “I did,” Eastwood says softly.

Stella stares at Eastwood until he finds his nerve and stares back. She is waiting for recognition, understanding of how this all came to be. _Subject: man_ , she thinks, and in any other situation she might laugh. Eventually Eastwood acknowledges her with a slight incline of his head.

“And then?” Dani asks. It’s out of line for her to ask this, but it’s just enough to break whatever spell had settled on the room. So they let it go.

Stella angles her chair so she’s speaking to Eastwood but inclined toward Dani. “He said he’d been weak. And that he was weak. And then he got up from the couch where he was sitting. Said my name. Said that he wanted me, and badly. At this point, I said, quote, don’t, seriously, Jim, don’t. But he kept going.”

“And what happened then?” Eastwood asks.

Stella breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth. “He got closer to me, much closer. He started begging, telling me he wanted to forget what he seeing in his head. Just one night. He reached out his hand and pressed his palm against my lower cheek and jaw. His fingers were cupped around my neck. I placed my hand on his chest and started pushing him away, and his grip around my neck became stronger. He was pulling my face toward his, and I said, ‘stop,’ quite clearly, as well as ‘no.’ But instead of listening to me, he brought his other hand to my face so he could pull harder.”

Stella can sense Eastwood’s barely contained rage from across the table, but instead of confronting it, she turns to Dani. Dani, who seems to be on the verge of tears, whose hands are subconsciously patting her hips. Searching for a vest and a firearm that aren’t there. _She must have thought I was untouchable._

“And what happened then?” Eastwood asks again, quieter this time.

“I was able to step back and move the right side of my body away from him. I smashed the heel of my right hand into his nose and broke it.”

The tension breaks. Eastwood lets out an amused _ha!_ and Dani sighs in relief and giggles a bit. Stella can’t help but feel a little smug, and she knows she’s doing fuck all to hide it.  She could chastise them for not taking the situation seriously, but she won’t, not for this. She glances around the room; when was the last time someone genuinely laughed in here?

“I think this might be a good time to have a short break,” Eastwood says as he leans over and switches off the recorder. “Five minutes. I need to use the little boys room.” He slaps his palms against the table as he gets up to leave.

Once he’s gone, Stella moves her chair so it’s straight across from Eastwood’s and watches Dani studiously avoid eye contact. Dani thrums her fingers against her leg and Stella just watches her and wonders if she has the guts to say something.

She does. “You didn’t really need me for support, ma’am. So why am I here?”

Stella chuckles darkly. She’s not going to answer that question. Instead she says, “Dani, are you up to date on your Sexual Offenses Investigative Techniques training?”

“Like at the Met?” Dani asks. Stella nods. “We don’t have that here, ma’am. We have the Rape Crime Unit and all of the detectives there took a course or something. I’m just a PC, I don’t know the details.”

“A Rape Crime Unit. Well, when you become a DC, it might be worth looking into,” Stella says. She turns her head to lock eyes with Dani.

“ _When_ I become a DC, ma’am?” Dani’s eyebrows are as high on her forehead as they can go. Stella nods and continues to hold Dani’s gaze: _you heard me._

Dani’s eyes flit away; she’s remembering something. “Wasn’t Spector hiding in the closet for all of this?”

“He was.”

“Do you think he was going to…”

“Attack me?” Stella shakes her head. “No. But he thinks about it. He fantasizes about being Burns. Except stronger. Able to see it through.”

The air is charged with that when Eastwood re-enters the room. And as he turns on the recorder and resumes his line of questioning, this sudden awareness of danger stretches between Dani and Stella, and stays.

* * *

Six hours later, Stella’s napping on a couch outside of the control room. She would have gone back to her office and used her cot, but it seems irresponsible to leave Spector, and at night, for even that long.

She sleeps in twenty-minute intervals, nowhere near long enough to reach an REM cycle. But the unconsciousness is not satisfying, and when she wakes up, her head feels like it’s been filled with cotton or dense fog. There is, of course, nothing for her to write down.

DC McNally is kneeling by the couch.

“I was going to wake you, but I wasn’t sure how,” she says, a bit sheepish. “We need you at Control right away, ma’am.”

Stella wastes no time in getting up. She throws open the door to the control room and immediately puts on a headset. “Where is he?” she asks Mary.

“In his car, ma’am, the stolen one. Driving south on Northumberland Street,” Mary responds.

Stella chews her nail as she listens to his route: Northumberland Street, then south on Great Victoria Street until it merges into University Road. Around where Katie Benedetto lives, Stella remembers. But then he keeps going south, down Malone Road, and Stella and McNally start trading nervous glances. He drives his car into a well-manicured bush on Notting Hill Court, and then gets out. Starts walking.

Stella disables her headset and sits next to McNally. “How does it feel to be right?”

McNally swallows audibly. “I think I’m going to vomit, ma’am.”

The two of them listen as the Bravo team reports that the target has arrived at Professor Reed Smith’s address.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect updates weekly-ish from me, I think that's where I'm at right now. 
> 
> [More info about SOIT training from the Met](http://content.met.police.uk/Article/Definitions/1400008450549/1400008450549%20)
> 
> Special thanks to Google Maps!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reed Smith crime scene and its aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is... the Stella/Reed chapter. I just hope I didn't screw it up for you all.
> 
> Triggers: Stalking, invasion of private space.

Stella and McNally’s surveillance team had installed video cameras in every room of Tanya Reed Smith’s house, so they watch Spector’s home intrusion as it unfolds.

Spector is able to get into the house after climbing up a thin pipe and then taking ten painstaking minutes to pry open a locked second floor window. That leaves him in the master bathroom, where he goes through Tanya’s soaps, lipsticks, and then inspects a thin, circular container that is clearly birth control. When he reaches the bedroom, he immediately opens both drawers in Tanya’s nightstand. There, he finds a small vibrator collection, and he lays all four items out on the bed for examination.

It is almost comical how uncomfortable this display makes the men, and how easily and readily the women on the surveillance team are able to identify the objects: two vibrators in the style of the rabbit, one Hitachi Magic Wand, and one Mimi clitoral vibe (Stella owns four of them; they’re a favorite). Spector leaves the wand on the bed, along with a lacy bra and knicker set in in royal purple. He takes an identical set in, and Stella rolls her eyes at this, red, folds it up, and places it in his backpack.

But there was one thing he hadn’t counted on: he must not have known that Tanya had children. When he opens the girls’ bedroom door, he stops and stands in the doorway for almost a full minute. And then he steps in, examines a small stuffed ladybug on the floor near one of the beds, and then tucks it into his backpack.

He leaves in a hurry after that. The team meticulously reports him walking through some of the denser greenery around Cleaver Park.

McNally organizes a forensics team to go to Professor Reed Smith’s house as soon as Spector is half a mile away.

“We’ve contacted Professor Reed Smith’s bodyman,” McNally says on her way out. Stella knows this; she had wanted to make the call herself, but she’d suspected that she was the last person Tanya would want to hear this from.

“Professor Reed Smith is meeting us at the crime scene,” McNally continues. “We have video of everything that Spector stole, but we’ll need her to confirm that nothing else is missing.”

Stella winces. “Can it not wait till morning?”

“She insisted on coming down tonight, ma’am.” 

Stella sighs. McNally leaves with her phone perched uncomfortably between her ear, her hair, and her shoulder, and Stella turns her attention to the continued surveillance of Spector.

He’s abandoned the car and is now jogging north. He negotiates his way around Queens University and returns to his own flat on University Avenue.

“Alpha Delta One to Control, target climbed over rear wall, entering through the rear door.” Stella notes with some amusement that Spector has broken into his own house the same way Katie did just a few nights ago.

Once he’s in, there’s nothing they can do to track his movements; they just have to wait for him to leave again. But if Stella were to bet money on it, she’d wager on him making a delivery to his young daughter.  Olivia.

Stella walks up behind Mary’s seat at the dashboard. “We need to get cameras in there.”

Mary makes a humming noise in agreement. “We’ve contacted Belfast City Hospital and obtained a copy of Sally Ann Spector’s work schedule. She has a shift tomorrow from 8 am to 1 pm, which is also when the children will be in school. Provided Spector does not return, the house should be empty between those hours. Plenty of time to get a team in.”

Is there anything that Mary doesn’t think of? “Perfect. Can you make the arrangements?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Spector’s in his house for exactly twelve minutes, and he leaves through the same rear door he came in. From there, the team tracks him jogging back north, back to his hotel on Northumberland Street. The undercover man they have inside the hotel reports that Spector enters his room at 12:07 am. At that point, Stella verifies with Mary that Eastwood is on his way to the station, directs the team to call her with any updates, any updates at all, and leaves the control room with her coat, her bag, and her gun.

She has to go talk to her friend.

She runs into Burns on her way out. Christ, this is the last thing she needs. “Is it true?” he asks.

Stella has to bite her lip to prevent herself from sighing in agitation. “What did you hear?”

“That Spector’s on the move.”

Stella straightens her coat around her and then buttons it. “He hasn’t left Belfast, if that’s what you’re asking. And he hasn’t revealed the location of Rose Stagg. But we did see him perpetrate two home invasions. One on his own home.”

“And the other?” Stella can see and feel him inching closer to her. It’s almost imperceptible, but after Saturday night at the hotel, it’s impossible for her not to monitor the physical space between them. She looks at the floor; by her estimate they are now about four feet apart.  And he’s not going to like the answer to his question.

“He paid a visit to Professor Tanya Reed Smith’s home in South Belfast,” Stella says. 

“ _Jesus Christ._ ” He closes his eyes and starts rubbing his temples. “What did he do there?”

“Laid out her undergarments and her vibrator. Stopped into her daughters’ room and took a toy. Perhaps he delivered it to his own daughter, seeing as he invaded his own home next.”

Burns huffs out his nose and shoves his hands in his pockets. He won’t give Stella credit for her foresight, that much Stella knows, and he certainly won’t admit to being wrong. And if he doesn’t say something soon, Stella may just breeze past him and get herself to the crime scene.

“And we have no arrest strategy in place?” he asks before Stella has a chance to move.

Stella levels him with her eyes. “I had thought the strategy was to keep him under surveillance in the hopes that he would lead us to Rose Stagg. We had agreed that was the best way to both apprehend him and recover Rose. And it gives us more time to gather evidence. We jump the gun too early, we let him go on a technicality, and that’s it. It’s over.”

“But there are limits to that, Stella,” he says, now gesturing in her space. “We can’t let him hurt anyone—“

“Do you honestly think that we wouldn’t arrest him on the spot if he hurt anyone?” Stella snaps. “But he hasn’t yet. And Rose is still out there.”

Stella takes a deep breath in, and a deep breath out. She can’t afford to lose her cool in front of Jim, not when she has to make her point. He sticks his hands back in his pockets and sighs. “You lose him, Stella, and it’s on you.”

“Yes, sir,” she says, just under her breath. And then she walks past him, past the board of murdered officers, past the entrance of the station and the men of her detail smoking near their armored car. She nods to them, and they prepare to drive behind her.

And it’s a long ten minutes to Professor Reed Smith’s house.

* * *

Stella can’t immediately find Tanya when she arrives at the crime scene. She can make out McNally, suited up in Tyvek and clearly having it out with a fibre specialist on Tanya’s front porch. Technically this is Stella’s crime scene, so it would be prudent of her to suit up, go over there, and get her DC under control.

But then she sees Tanya sitting in the open trunk of one of the big forensics vans. Her posture is hunched, her feet are dangling just above the ground, and a shock blanket is falling off her left shoulder. She’s clutching a ladybug stuffed animal identical to the one Spector stole to her stomach. And she’s been crying.

Stella jogs over to the van, but once she’s there she’s unsure of what to do with herself. Her pulse picks up. She stands in front of Tanya and doesn’t say anything, but after a few seconds she gestures to the small space next to Tanya in the trunk.

And Tanya just nods. Lets Stella sit next to her.

“How are you holding up?” Stella asks gently.

Tanya shakes her head. “The bug is called Lady,” she mutters.

Stella doesn’t ask for clarification, even though she finds herself, again, completely at sea. She just looks at Tanya’s hands and waits for her to keep talking.

Tanya removes the blanket from her shoulders and puts it behind her. She then angles her body so she can look at Stella as she talks. Their knees are touching.

“The bug is called Lady because she’s a lady of the court,” Tanya begins. “Soni, she’s seven, she’s started reading these kids books based on King Arthur. So now all of Diana’s stuffed animals are ladies and knights. And Soni host tournaments and feasts for the court, but mostly the court exists to protect Diana from nightmares. So every night before I tuck them in, Soni tells me which animals I need to put where so that the knights will fight off whatever might be coming for Diana in her sleep. But, you know, Diana still has nightmares. Night terrors, sometimes. And if she wakes up screaming and crying then Soni will actually get out of her bed and sleep against the door to keep the dark away. And I keep telling her that she doesn’t have to do that. That if she sleeps in her bed it doesn’t mean she loves her sister any less. But…”

And here Tanya chokes on a sob. And Stella wants to touch her, but she can’t think where would be appropriate, so she just curls her fingers tightly around the bottom of the trunk. Waits for Tanya to find her voice again.

And she does. “But it’s not just the nightmares Soni’s worried about. The thing is… Diana looks more like me than her father. She’s darker than her sister. And she gets picked on, in school, some of the boys tell her to get back on the boat. And their dads, Stella, their dads are _nasty_. I know Soni has heard me get angry on the phone. And now this… I can keep it secret as much as I like, but Soni and Diana will come back to this room and they’ll just _know_. I don’t think I can explain it. And I can buy them all the stuffed animals in the world, but it’s not going to keep the terror away.”

Tanya begins to cry again, silently, and Stella sits beside her, almost sharking with rage. She remembers what she told Tanya, back before Annie Brawley was attacked, back when Spector was nameless and faceless and Stella assumed her attraction wasn’t returned and kept it to herself, to her diary. _What will you tell your daughters, in the future, about how to stay safe?_

Tanya’s daughters are just five and seven, and still the question should have been: _what do you tell them now?_

To think Spector imagines that children can afford to be innocent, that _girls_ can afford to be innocent. She thinks about Nancy, who could have said anything at all to Dani but spoke about the strange man in the bathroom. She thinks about Olivia’s drawing, the pregnant woman with the jagged-edged scribble growing inside her, and she thinks about Soni, who she’s only seen in pictures, standing up against a darkness that is so much bigger than her.

She wants to tell Tanya it will be okay, but she can’t.

She reaches out a tentative hand and rests it on Tanya’s upper back. There is no resistance, so she starts rubbing small circles there, calming shapes. After a few minutes and a few high-pitched hiccoughs, Tanya stops crying.

What Stella still has is procedure. “Here is what we can do now. DC McNally will come over when she is done with forensics. She will ask you some basic questions. We have your fingerprints and a DNA sample on file for you, since you do so much work for the PSNI, so there will be no need for you to come back to the station tonight. Tomorrow morning, or sometime during the day, you can come by and give a more complete statement. We will keep you updated on all of the forensic evidence that we get from your house; anything we know, you’ll know the second after we do. For now, I know Donovan is here with his car and he is ready to take you back to where you’re staying.”

Tanya nods. “Thank you. For everything.”

Stella scoffs lightly. “Come on, no need for that. I fear that most of this is my fault.”

“Don’t…” Tanya starts.

“And at the very least I owe you an apology. I was short with you, the other day.”

Tanya eases herself out of the van trunk. She stands up, wipes the dirt off her soft pyjama bottoms, and holds out her hand to Stella. Stella feels her eyes widen and her mouth open, and realizes she probably looks like an idiot, gaping at Tanya like this. _God._ She takes Tanya’s hand and lets Tanya help her up.

“No need for that,” Tanya echoes, a slight tease in her voice. Stella smiles tightly. Tanya opens her mouth as if to speak, but then thinks better of it and just shakes her head. And Stella very much wants to lean in and kiss her. 

She’s made the moment tense now, heavy. The feeling passes between them, and neither of them knows how to act on it. Eventually, Tanya’s glance shifts to something behind Stella, and Stella turns around and sees that McNally is out of her Tyvek suit and ready to ask questions.

“I should go,” Tanya says. “I’ll talk to you?”

“Yes,” Stella replies. “And soon.”

Tanya goes off to join McNally. But before she gets to the edge of the crime scene cordon, she turns around.

“Are you any closer to finding Rose?” she asks.

Stella hangs her head. “No.”

* * *

There’s no time for Stella to go back to the hotel to sleep. They’re not done at the Reed Smith crime scene until 2 am, and Martin and the Covert Operations team start their second Spector home surveillance set up at 8 am, which she will need to oversee.

So at 2:30 am, Stella returns to her office and makes up her cot. She’ll get four hours of sleep if she’s lucky, and then she’ll pray that Rick makes the coffee tomorrow morning, since he’s the only one who knows how to make it taste like something resembling coffee.

She places a small legal pad and a pen next to her coffee cup; if she uses it, she’ll rip up whatever she writes down. She double checks that the blinds are closed, and then she removes her work shirt and slips on one of her cotton sleeping shirts. She is about to remove her bra when someone raps lightly on the doorframe.

Stella leans her knee on the cot and peeks through the blinds; it’s Tanya. Her breath catches. Tanya sees her looking through the blinds and smiles at her, and Stella runs her thumb over her wrist a few times, just to calm her body down. She sits cross-legged on the cot.

“Come in,” she calls softly.

“I thought I might find you here,” says Tanya, and sits down in the chair opposite Stella’s desk. Tanya moves the chair around so she’s facing Stella. Stella doesn’t move.

“I thought you were going to get some sleep.”

“I made Donovan turn around,” Tanya admits. “I wasn’t going to sleep. I can’t turn my brain off. I keep imagining…”

“Don’t,” Stella says.

Tanya shrugs. Her hair is down now, and she tucks some of the stray stands behind her left ear. She’s embarrassed, Stella thinks.

“Then why come back here, to the station?” Stella asks. “The mortuary is just as secure, and probably more familiar.”

“I know you installed cameras in my house. So I asked to see the video footage.” She looks away and slides her hand between her thighs, as she sometimes does when she’s nervous.

Stella feels her face fall. “Tell me you didn’t…”

Tanya looks back at Stella and nods: she did. Stella rests her head against her office window and glances up at the ceiling. She too imagines what Spector did when he invaded her private space, but doesn’t think seeing what really happened would erase what she had pictured in her head. At least she knows that there was no semen found at the crime scene. And they will confirm the same for Tanya’s house, soon enough.

Stella straightens her head and moves her back away from the window. “Are you okay?” she whispers.

Tanya doesn’t answer. She just presses her lips together and shakes her head.

Stella rests her chin in her palm and looks up at Tanya. She feels helpless. She did her job well enough to anticipate this happening, and in doing so she protected Tanya. But it doesn’t seem that way at all, sitting with her now.  There must be some kind of comfort she can offer that isn’t hollow or built on placating lies.

And, after a moment’s thought, she finds something. “When you were talking about your daughter guarding the bedroom door, it reminded me of a dream I sometimes have. In the dream, I’m walking through the Havens, you know, the London sexual assault clinic, and it’s completely empty and all the doors are closed. And it’s eerily quiet. But then the doors start opening, and the hall where I’ve been standing floods with people.  People I recognize, victims who have passed through my interview room. And I’ve worked rape cases, incest cases, domestic violence cases, human trafficking cases. All of those are accounted for. And I can’t hear them for some reason, but they’re clearly frightened of something, they’re silently wailing and screaming. The safety of the Havens has been compromised in some way. And I look out the window, suddenly there’s a huge window, and I see all of these men I don’t recognize stampeding down a hill. So I gather all these people at the Havens in one of the medical examining rooms, and then I step out of the facility to face the intruders. And as soon as I do, I turn into a wolf. And I stand there baring my teeth, ready for the men to reach me. And that’s when I wake up.”

When Stella’s done speaking, they sit in silence. Tanya looks at Stella with big, wet eyes and then inclines her head at the space next to Stella on the cot.  Stella hesitates. 

And then she nods.

Tanya lowers herself down to sit on the cot, and almost immediately Stella uncrosses her legs so their thighs, their arms, their shoulders, their bare ankles are touching. Stella swallows, and her lips part. She can’t bring herself turn her head and look at Tanya; she can’t get too close.

“You carry that around with you?” Tanya asks quietly.

Stella lowers her head and smiles, just barely. “It’s not a burden.”                 

And then, and Stella cannot believe it’s real, even as it’s happening, Tanya reaches out and touches Stella’s face.  The backs of her fingers play against Stella’s jaw and then, so, _so_ slowly, she lifts Stella’s chin so they’re looking right at each other.  So there’s only charged air and labored breathing between them.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Tanya says.

And then she kisses Stella.

Stella lets Tanya lead, so it’s just a touch of lips at first. Nothing like the artless collision in the bar.  Tanya’s kiss is tender and contained, and each time Stella goes to break away and go in for _more_ , Tanya opens her lips slightly and brings her back. It’s the most frustrating, intoxicating thing, and when Stella can’t take it anymore, she leans in and cups Tanya’s face in one hand. Kisses her harder. Tanya’s mouth opens in surprise, and Stella traces her tongue around Tanya’s lips. Tanya lets her in with a quiet moan, and when she starts sucking on Stella’s tongue, Stella inhales sharply through her nose and moves her other hand to clutch at Tanya’s hip. Stella can feel Tanya’s skin under her tee shirt, and it’s warm.

When they finally break apart, Stella’s flushed red and panting.

“Jesus,” she says.

“Yeah.”

A beat. They both try to catch their breath. Stella knows that the timing is all wrong to take this further, but for now she is grateful to have reached this… understanding, perhaps. This acknowledgement.

She smiles gently at Tanya, and Tanya mirrors it back to her. She arranges the words she is about to say in her mind until she is satisfied with them, and then she says them carefully, as if they might break if she handles them improperly:

“Regardless of my intentions that night in the bar, I think now it is fair to say that I want this with you, for as long as I am here.  Or at least as long as you will have me.”

Tanya smiles and covers Stella’s hand with her own.

“Thank you,” she says. “Thank you for telling me that. All of that. And we’ll… figure out how this is going to work.” And here she yawns mightily and slumps against the window.  “But now… I think I might be okay to sleep.”

Stella hums to herself. “You can have the cot.”

“It’s _your_ office.”

Stella chuckles. “There are plenty of serviceable couches in the station. Several more comfortable than the cot, even.”

Stella gets up, and as soon as she does Tanya collapses on the cot with quiet grunt. It’s all caught up to her now, Stella thinks. Tanya burrows her head into Stella’s pillow, and her arms curl against her chest and settle. Within a minute, she’s fast asleep.

Stella doesn’t go looking for a couch. Instead, she sits on the floor next to office door, leans her head against the doorframe.  And keeps watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Havens is a real organization based in London! It was established in 2001, a time when DC Stella Gibson would have enthusiastically volunteered herself to be one of the first specially trained officers working in cooperation with the facility.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The surveillance effort goes inside the Spector home, and the PSNI receives an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General note: I'm making up a truly astonishing amount of this police procedure and will continue to make it up as it suits me! So don't take any of this as actual reality should you get into an altercation with the law. 
> 
> I misread one of the dates in 2.03, so just fyi everything so far takes place Saturday 5/5/12 -- Tuesday 5/8/12. The dates in 4 & 5 have been adjusted to reflect this.
> 
> Onward!

Stella wakes up gasping, like she’s emerging from water. No dreams that she can remember. But her tailbone feels sore, and her shoulders and neck are aching; she slept in an odd position. Where is she?

Her office. Sitting against the door, next to the cot. And the cot is empty.

_Tanya…._

Stella tries to push herself off the floor, but her body is not cooperating, so she grabs a hold of the cot and uses it to hoist herself up. Her hand grazes a piece of paper resting on the thin blanket. Stella removes her sleeping shirt, applies deodorant, and puts on the bra and blouse she laid out for herself last night.

And then she reads the note:

_Need to catch up on lab work at the mortuary. Didn’t want to interfere w/ the case. Thank you for everything T xx_

Stella smiles and folds the note into a rectangle small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. She tucks it into an inside pocket of her bag where, conveniently enough, she’s also stashed a few fresh pairs of underwear, some condoms, and her emergency supply of tampons.

She’s in the control room for the next leg of the Spector surveillance project just half an hour later. Mary probably hasn’t slept in two days, but God bless her, she is still working the dashboard. Stella wonders vaguely if she’s married, if she has kids.

“Morning, ma’am,” she says. “Just to brief you, we have six active teams, three are high priority. Low priority right now are the teams at the Stagg residence, the Smith residence, and the Reed-Smith residence. High priority are team Omega, that’s the Katie Benedetto team, team X-Ray, that’s the Spector residence team, and team Bravo, that’s the Paul Spector team. We’re sending out a team now to install surveillance cameras inside the Spector home, and they are…” Mary presses a few buttons on her computer and a dot appears on her map, “leaving our carpark now, ma’am.”

This is all information she already knows, but it has a calming effect. Almost makes her believe that everything will go without a hitch.

“Thanks, Mary,” Stella says. She puts on a headset and turns on the Bluetooth capabilities.

“DC Martin, are you there?” she asks.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Walk me through what we’re doing today.”

Martin clears his throat, and his voice deepens a little. “Well, ma’am, the time now is 7:59 am. Sally Ann Spector left for her shift at the hospital ten minutes ago, as Control confirmed. The kids, Olivia and Liam, were dropped at Sally Ann’s friend’s Beth’s house. We are going to arrive at the Spector residence in seven minutes, and Team Kappa, that’s the team name, ma’am, is going to set up cameras in the garage, the kitchen, the living area, the master bedroom to start, and then outfit the rest of the house per your instruction.”

Good, he’s eaten his Wheaties this morning. “Thank you. I can tell you right now you’ll need to outfit the children’s rooms as well. And any kind of basement or attic space you find. And pictures, Martin. We’re not legally allowed to obtain evidence, but anything even remotely of interest needs to be captured on camera. Martin, am I making myself clear?”

“Crystal, ma’am,” he replies.

“And, this is important, leave everything _exactly how you found it_.” She articulates every word, and she can almost feel her diction echo on the other side of the line.

“Due respect, ma’am, but this isn’t the first time I’ve worked with Covert Operations,” Martin says, and his voice is soft and steady. Therein lies the sting; she’s his boss, and he’s _talking down to her._

“Due respect, Martin,” she echoes sourly, “but this is the first time you’ve worked with Covert Operations in _this_ house for the purpose of catching _this_ man. And if you want me to trust in your abilities without question… well, that you have to earn. And you haven’t yet.”

That shuts him up.

They arrive at the Spector residence, and there is, as they predicted, no one home. Mary gives the all clear, and the Martin leads the surveillance team into house. The media computer in the control room immediately starts receiving pictures of the rooms in the house.

Stella sits down and starts clicking through them. “The children’s rooms, the hallways connecting the bedrooms, to start,” she tells Martin through the headset. “And don’t leave without looking for an attic. Or a large storage room.”

The camera is up in the kitchen, so Stella can see Martin as he helps the team. Martin doesn’t respond to her; he just nods blankly, Lovely, now she has another aspect of this investigation compromised by a man’s ego. Christ.

Just then, a slightly dishevelled Eastwood enters the control room. “There’s been a development,” he reports.

Stella pushes her headset down so it rests around her neck. “Tell me.”

Eastwood takes a deep breath. “Sally Ann Spector just walked into our pedestrian entrance. I think she wants to report something. She’s asking to talk to DC McNally.”

Stella takes a moment to process this. “She’s here? Now?”

“Yes.”

“Of her own free will?”

“It appears that way.”

“And she didn’t say why?”

“No. Just that she wanted to speak to DC McNally.”

Stella bites her tongue. She had pulled McNally aside and asked her about Sally Ann’s demeanor during their interview. And McNally had said that Sally Ann had seemed tired, no, “haggard” was the word she’d used.  And uncomfortable.

“And when she did tell us the truth, ma’am, “ McNally had said,  “she wasn’t at all relieved to finally have it off her chest. In fact, she was more nervous. Like telling us had consequences, and bad ones.”

McNally’s on her way to Bangor now, and Stella retrieves her mobile from her bag and rings her. She’s aware of Martin saying “ma’am” with some urgency through her headset, so she just wordlessly passes the headset to Eastwood and lets him drive the ship for a bit.

“Martin, this is DCI Eastwood, stepping in for Gibson. Get me up to speed.”

McNally’s phone rings three times before she answers. “McNally.”

“Turn your car around and get back to the station _now_ , “ Stella orders.

And she’s less than thrilled when she doesn’t hear the sounds of a car turning off the road and swiftly changing direction. “Can I ask what’s going on, ma’am?”

Stella scoffs. “You’re really chomping at the bit to talk to Liz Tyler?”

“No, not at all ma’am,” McNally sputters, “I just want to know what’s waiting for me.”

“Sally Ann Spector,” Stella says. “She’s come to the station on her own steam and she wants to talk to you. She asked for you specifically.”

And there it is, the sound of a car changing direction.

* * *

McNally arrives ten minutes later, and she heads into the comfort room where Eastwood has temporarily put Sally Ann. McNally knows what her job is at this point: she has to have tea with Sally Ann, calm her down if she’s distressed in some way, and convince her to consent to a formal interview without pressuring her. Stella isn’t allowed to monitor at this juncture, but she’s curious to know how good McNally is at this particular part of her job.

She listens to a string of messages from Eastwood as she waits. It appears that Martin has found a drawing that matched that drawing indented in Spector’s letter to Ian Kay. He was not allowed to seize it, but Stella sees the picture he took on her phone and knows it’s the same one. But they can’t use it, not yet.

Stella sets up her monitoring in Interview Room C19 and asks McNally to join her there when they’re ready. She’s calling in to check in on Control when McNally enters the room with a subdued Sally Ann Spector.

That was fast. Stella hangs up her phone and puts on her headset. McNally turns on the recorder next to her on the table.

“Interview commenced at 8:45 am on Tuesday, May 8th, 2012,” McNally starts. “I’m Detective Constable Gail McNally. Sally Ann, I’m going to ask you to state your name for voice recognition purposes.”

Sally Ann clears her throat. “Sally Ann Spector.”

“Thanks, Sally Ann. I need to advise you that this interview is being monitored. As I told you before, it’s for me. It’s just my boss, one of the superintendents. I have to make a portfolio of interviews that I conduct so I can advance through the ranks. Police bureaucracy, I don’t want you to worry about it.”

That was clever of her. Stella knows that McNally’s portfolio is complete and has been for some time, but it’s a good strategy to keep Sally Ann calm.

One that doesn’t seem to be working, though. Sally Ann crosses her legs and her arms tense at her sides. She nods in recognition of what McNally’s said.

“All right, Sally Ann, so let’s just start with the events of this morning. Can you tell me about your morning, just from when you woke up to coming to the station?”

Sally Ann glances nervously at the black recording device sitting on the table, as if it’s just dawning on her that once she does this, she can’t erase or expunge it.  She takes a deep breath and starts speaking:

“I woke up at 5:45, as I always do, and I, you know, showered and changed. I went downstairs to make tea and start putting together breakfast, and then at about 6:30 or so I went to wake the kids.”

“What did you give the kids for breakfast?” McNally asks gently.

“Um… I made pancakes?” Sally Ann says. From the angle Stella sees her, she looks very pale. “I mixed the batter before going upstairs and then put it in the fridge. They’ve had a hard time with Paul being gone so I, um, wanted to make something nice.”

“Of course. And then?”

“And then I woke the kids, made sure they got dressed, and helped them get all of their things ready for school. I double-checked that Olivia had finished her homework. And when I was putting her papers back into her bag was when I first saw it. She had put it, um, between her dresser and the wall. It was stuffed in really tight. She didn’t want me to find it.”

McNally nods gravely. “And what is ‘it’, Sally Ann?”

Sally Ann reaches for her bag, which she’s stashed under the table. She then pulls out a stuffed ladybug that Stella recognizes immediately.

McNally, to her credit, does not flinch. She does nothing to indicate to Sally Ann that she’s seen the object before. But she doesn’t touch it, either. “And you had never seen it before?”

“I recognize every one of my daughter’s playthings,” Sally Ann replies, and her voice shakes with a new conviction. She points at the ladybug. “And I have _never_ seen that. Not once.”

McNally stays silent for a moment, as if she’s letting smoke clear.  When she continues, her tone is neutral and firm. “Did you ask Olivia about it?”

Sally Ann nods. “Yeah, I asked her where it came from. First, she said it was secret. And then, when I said that there were no secrets in this house, she said that the pixie man who gave it to her told her that it had to be a secret. And I asked her if she could tell me when the pixie man gave it to her, and she said that time was different in pixieland so she couldn’t be sure. But the thing is, I go into their rooms to straighten up _every day_ , and I go behind that dresser _every day_ , and as I said, that was the first time I’d seen it.”

“All right,” McNally says. “And then after that, what did you do?”

“I made breakfast,” Sally Ann answers. “Liam is learning how to draw letters on lined paper, so I helped him with that before school. Olivia was quiet. I think she was mad at me. After we were done eating, I drove them to my friend Beth’s so she could get them to school. I had to be at work by 8.”

Sally places her hands in her lap and starts fidgeting. Her eyes dart around the room, looking for where the camera is.  Painfully aware that someone’s watching.

“But you didn’t go to work,” McNally says.

Sally Ann sighs heavily. “I got to the carpack outside work. And I started thinking that Paul used to tell Olivia lots of stories about fairies and unicorns, so pixies wouldn’t be a stretch. And if Olivia trusted this person that easily, it probably was Paul. So has Paul been seeing my daughter without my knowledge? Has he been sneaking into my house? _Breaking in?_ What else has he done? And then you show up wanting to talk to me _two weeks_ after he volunteered himself for questioning and he’s still not cleared from your inquiries? _What_ inquiries? And why isn’t he clear?”

McNally leans forward and rests her forearms on the table. “I can’t comment on on-going investigations, but I can say that it’s our procedure to follow up with everyone we speak to. My colleague should have followed up with you immediately, but we were so overloaded with material from that open call and the door-to-door interviews that he simply forgot. It was only when we were doing the paper work that we even noticed it.”

“What if I told you that I was covering for an affair he was having with Katie Benedetto?,” Sally Ann snaps. “Would he be clear then?”

Stella can’t see McNally’s face from her position in the observation area, but she can see the muscles in McNally’s neck and shoulders tense. “Then you can tell me more about that,” she says, “but I can’t comment on on-going investigations.”

Sally scoffs; she’s lost her patience now. “You told me before that you wanted to help me, but how can you possibly help me if you can’t tell me what I need to know? I don’t work for a newspaper. I’m not going to run my mouth off. I’ve got two kids at home and I don’t… I don’t know if they’re safe from their own _father_.”

“Look, Sally,” McNally starts, “I’m not lying when I tell you…”

God, McNally shouldn’t have said that because it sets Sally Ann off like a minefield. “How do I _know_ you’re not lying, though? Everyone else is lying! Paul told me that he was having an affair with Katie, and that’s why I needed to lie for him. Then Katie told me that he attacked her, that he sexually assaulted her. But then she took Olivia from school without my permission for who knows what reason, and now my own _daughter_ is lying to me! I don’t know what the hell Paul wants or what Katie wants, or if they might hurt my children, and I can’t afford not to know.  I have two kids who depend on me, and I’m _pregnant_!”

Stella drops her head into her hands. _Christ Almighty._

McNally does a shitty job of hiding her shock. “You’re… pregnant?”

There’s a hitch in Sally Ann’s breathing that indicates that she might be near tears. “That’s right,” she rasps. “I’m fucking pregnant. And before you ask, yes, it’s Paul’s.”

“Does Paul… um… does Paul know about the pregnancy?” McNally asks.

“He does,” Sally Ann answers. “I told him I was thinking about having an abortion, and he said I couldn’t.”

McNally’s jaw clenches. “Did he pressure you? Threaten you? Suggest that there would be consequences for you and the kids if you didn’t have the baby?”

Stella frowns. These questions aren’t standard; in fact, she’s probably obliged to give McNally a slap on the wrist for asking leading questions to a cooperative subject. But there’s a sudden sharpness to McNally’s voice that gives this line of questioning a misplaced sense of urgency. Stella wonders if this is really about Sally Ann at all.

“No,” Sally Ann says. “He just said that his mother was Catholic. But she killed herself years ago.”

McNally takes a deep breath. When she speaks, it’s so muted and gentle that Stella’s not confident that recording device will get all of it. “We are going to help you, Sally. You’ve reported a suspected break-in, so we can bring a team to your house. We’ll see if we can determine if he was there last night, and we’ll see if we can track the origin of this toy. From there we can connect you with solicitor and we can all put together a restraining order or a court injunction that we’re satisfied with. How does that sound?’

Sally Ann nods, looks away. “I’m not stupid,” she says quietly. “It was probably stupid of me to come here with nothing but a stuffed animal and a bad feeling, but I know that there is something wrong. I don’t know if you have kids at all, but I think mine might be in danger. So please, just… there must be something you can give me.”

McNally swallows. She is making such an effort not to show how deeply affected she is, and Sally Ann might not be able to see it, but Stella can. McNally’s hands are in tight fists, and Stella can picture her legs trembling under the table. This shouldn’t have gotten so far under McNally’s skin, but it has.

It really has.

McNally glances up at the left corner of the room, betraying where one of the cameras is. Sally Ann twists around and looks up.

Whatever battle McNally’s been fighting, she’s lost. “The person listening in isn’t just one of the superintendents. It’s DSI Stella Gibson, from the Metropolitan Police. Name you might recognize from the papers.”

Sally Ann stares directly into the camera. Her eyes are so tired. “The woman on the strangler case?” she asks. “Why is she interested in me?”

And both Stella and McNally wait for it, the moment when Sally Ann has her breakthrough. And when it comes, Sally Ann covers her mouth, stumbles out of her chair, and vomits all over the floor.

McNally looks up at the camera in apology. Stella will have to deal with her later. For now, Stella picks up the phone and calls building security.

“We’re going to need a janitor in Interview Room C19.”

* * *

They set Sally Ann up in a comfort room, and they contact one of their on-call mental health professionals to sit with her.  The ladybug goes straight to the evidence room. Stella is already working through what this means for the investigation in her head: they will need to provide protection for Sally Ann and her kids, but at same time it will be risky to relocate them from their home.  If Spector pays another visit to his daughter or tries to get in contact with his wife and finds them missing, their entire surveillance operation could be blown.

As well as any hope of saving Rose.

She meets up with McNally in the bullpen. McNally’s talking with Rick the tech guy in hushed tones, but they stop speaking and part ways as soon as they see Stella. McNally approaches Stella with her head bowed and her hands folded.

“I fucked up, ma’am,” she says.

There’s nothing to argue there, so Stella just nods. “If this ends up going to trial, you’ll need to go over your line of questioning with a solicitor. Particularly regarding Sally Ann’s pregnancy. Just… don’t bring your personal life into the interview room like that again. You know better. Leave it at door and do your job.”

 “Yes, ma’am.”

It’s harsh, but if they’re going to be working with Sally Ann Spector, then they can’t afford to have the one detective she trusts making careless mistakes. They can’t afford to have _anyone’s_ hang-ups or bruised egos leading to careless mistakes, not when there is so much at stake. Still, she can tell the comment stung; McNally’s blinking back tears. Stella would offer something vaguely encouraging to temper it, but she just doesn’t have the energy for that kind of insincerity. So she just leaves McNally looking intently at one of the helicopter maps, as if staring at it long enough will help her find Rose.

On the way back to the control room, Stella checks her messages. There are several from Eastwood: the surveillance finished smoothly, they are downloading over a thousand photos from the mission, Spector has not left his hotel and both his team and Katie Benedetto’s team think Paul and Katie have been in communication this morning, and the team is ordering lunch for later, would she like anything?

There is one picture message from Tanya. It’s one of Rose, one that must have been taken fairly recently, with both of Tanya’s daughters. They’re preparing for what Stella guesses is Diana’s fifth birthday party. Rose is smiling next to a big homemade cake, and Soni is trying to blow up a balloon while Diana is smearing icing all over her sister’s cheek. Rose is wearing a paper crown and looking straight at camera.

 _Thank you for this,_ Stella texts.

Tanya must be near her phone because she texts Stella right back.   _Nancy was sick but Rose stopped by anyway bc she promised the girls. They love her._

Stella’s smiling to herself. She starts to respond when another text pops up: _How is the investigation going?_

 _Waiting on the forensics report from your house. Might be a day or so_ , Stella texts back.

_I meant the search for Rose?_

Of course she meant the search for Rose. Stella knows she’s limited in what she can tell Tanya (at least outside of the forensic evidence), so she answers: _One step forward, two steps back_.  It seems like an adequate summary of the morning.

_And how are you?_

Stella stares at the text for a few moments. What can she say to this? She’s fine, she’s doing her job in the face of nearly everyone else’s incompetence, she has every technological wonder behind her and _still_ she’s almost certain she’s going to let Rose Stagg die, and there’s an uneasiness in her body that she can’t shake on her own.

But that won’t fit in a text message, so she doesn’t respond.

She runs into Eastwood on her way to the control room. Or maybe he’s been looking for her, as he acknowledges her with a grim nod. “I have bad news,” he says.

“So do I.”

He raises an eyebrow. “After you.”

Stella snorts at this mock display of courtesy. “McNally spoke to Sally Ann Spector. Over the course of the interview, it became clear to Sally Ann that her husband was of interest to us in a murder investigation. Also, she’s pregnant with his child. You?”

As Eastwood takes in this new information, his lips quirk up in amusement. This development is so terrible it’s almost absurd. But then his smile widens a bit, as if he knows he can one-up her.

“ACC Burns has called for an emergency arrest meeting,” he says. “He’ll probably contact you about it within five minutes. He wants Spector in custody before 5pm today. He claims it’s because of Spector’s activity last night, but one of my colleagues in the Internal Affairs investigation says someone leaked your statement to him.”

_Shit. Fuck._

And, as if on cue, her phone rings.

“And there it is,” says Eastwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is long and involved and is coming at a time when I don't have enough free hours to get it done in a week :/ Aiming for two, sorry in advance folks.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stella loses a battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned: don't read this chapter if you're a Jim Burns apologist. Actually, stop reading this story if you're a Jim Burns apologist. Come to think of it... why are you still reading if you're a Jim Burns apologist?

By 10:30 am, the entire team has convened for the emergency arrest meeting. They’ve stopped everything for this meeting, so barring Mary who is still manning Control, everyone’s here: Eastwood, McNally, Martin, DS McCurdy (who has been heading up the door-to-door efforts), Rick the tech guy (who she keeps forgetting is actually a DS, just a very technologically advanced one), DC Larkin, Ged the aerial surveillance specialist, a few representatives from the forensics team, and the whole support mechanism that Stella hasn’t gotten to know well-- PCs and DCs doing door-to-door interviews and providing administrative help.

And, of course, ACC Burns. He arrives holding a pile of paperwork and sits at the head of the table. He acknowledges Stella with a stony nod that does little to hide how hurt he is by her betrayal.

Stella sits down at his right-hand side and calls the meeting to order. “Thank you everyone for taking the time to be here. I understand that this meeting was called on short notice, and that several of you were interrupted while conducting interviews or processing evidence.”

Burns bristles at that. Good.

“It has been a busy twelve hours for our investigative team, as many of you are aware,” Stella continues. “Last night at 11:30 pm we witnessed Paul Spector perpetrate two home invasions. The first was into the home of our colleague, Professor Reed Smith, and the second was into his own home. Professor Reed Smith, as a friend of Rose’s and a friend of mine, was someone we had previously put under protection and surveillance. So we have extensive footage of that invasion, as well as forensic evidence from the crime scene. We also have video footage of Paul Spector breaking into his own home, and we can confirm that he stole a car and doctored the license plates. So we are not short of evidence for arresting Paul Spector at the very least for these crimes.”

Stella takes a breath, swallows. Burns has been staring at her since she started. She pushes on: “There was another development this morning, and now is as good a time as any to update you. Spector’s wife Sally Ann came into our pedestrian entrance with an item that Paul Spector had removed from the Reed Smith home and brought to his own home. That item, a stuffed animal, is currently being processed by forensics. Sally Ann is still in the building, and since two of our CID officers visited her home, she suspects that her husband is of interest to the police for the strangler murders. We have also learned that she is pregnant with his child.”

This is all news to Burns. “Stella, when did this happen?”

Stella talks to him without looking directly at him. “She came in just after 8am and spoke to DC McNally. Let me continue my summary so we can have an informed discussion of our strategy.”

She keeps her voice low and even. Burns nods in agreement. McNally catches her eye and smiles slightly; she’s grateful that Stella didn’t share the details of her interview with Sally.

Stella shuffles through some papers in front of her and retrieves a folder marked _Audio Forensic Reports_.  “Our audio-visual forensics team has been fast-tracking their comparative analysis of Paul Spector’s interview with DCI Brink and the conversation I had with Rose Stagg’s kidnapper on the phone the night of the 4 th. As of yesterday morning, they came back with the result that the Paul Spector is _possibly_ the person who called from Rose Stagg’s mobile phone. It is not the ideal _probably_ conclusion, but it is better than the inconclusive analysis that we received from comparing the killer’s initial conversation with me and the known recording of Paul Spector. It is enough evidence to arrest Paul Spector on suspicion of abducting Rose Stagg. It is connecting this abduction to the murders of Joe Brawley, Sarah Kay, Alice Monroe, and Fiona Gallagher that leaves us on shaky ground. Rick, can you pass around these forensic reports?”

Rick, who is sitting at Stella’s right hand, takes a few of the folders from her and sends them around the table. “I’ve had copies made of the audio forensics reports, as well as the incomplete forensic analysis we have of the scissors we pulled from the river. We were able to match a partial print on the scissors with Paul Spector’s prints, and our analysis of both the murderer’s path from the scene and Joe Brawley’s body suggest that the scissors are quite possibly the murder weapon. It’s enough evidence to justify our surveillance, but our inability to prove conclusively that the scissors are the murder weapon means that a savvy solicitor could have that arrest thrown out. That is not a risk I am willing to take, so my recommendation is that if we do arrest Paul Spector, that we arrest him on suspicion of the abduction and _only_ the abduction. It will also mean that we can prioritize questioning Spector about the location of Rose Stagg or Rose Stagg’s remains.”

From here, Burns takes over. “I called this meeting because it has become clear that it is no longer advisable or safe to have Paul Spector free to roam the streets when it is in our power to arrest him. As DSI Gibson has so helpfully informed us, we have more than enough evidence to make an arrest, and quite frankly I do not understand why there isn’t even a strategy in place at this point.”

“Because it is our responsibility to do everything in our power to recover Rose Stagg,” snaps Stella. She takes a breath, and then continues, calmer. “If we keep Paul Spector in custody and Rose is alive, then it is likely that we will be cutting her off from any resources Spector might be providing her. And we will be forced to receive information about her whereabouts only as Spector decides to reveal it. If she’s not already dead, then this arrest might kill her.”

Burns sighs, leans back, and crosses his arms across his chest. “We have to acknowledge the reality that Rose Stagg is in all likelihood already dead. Paul Spector has been under surveillance for almost 24 hours, and he has not done anything to indicate that he is tending to a prisoner. He has gathered no supplies, and he has not travelled to any location where he might be holding Rose. Therefore, if anything, our responsibility is to Sally Ann and her children and to the greater population of Belfast. Not to mention the continued safety of our colleagues.”

Stella knows that last part was an attempt to appeal to whatever feelings she might have for Tanya, friendship or otherwise. But she’s not going to let him do that; he doesn’t know the first thing about their relationship. He also doesn’t know that Tanya has sent her two more pictures of Rose in the last fifteen minutes.

“I recognize the need for a strategy,” Stella says carefully, “but I would like to keep Paul Spector under surveillance for at least another twenty-four hours before we bring him into custody. As one last pull for Rose.”

“I admire your passion, Stella,” Burns replies, and Stella has to clench her teeth to prevent herself from groaning.  Both McNally and McCurdy roll their eyes in her general vicinity. “But I have to be firm on this. I want Paul Spector in custody as soon as possible, and we’re here to discuss how to make that happen in the most efficient and least dangerous way possible.”

Stella breathes in, holds it for five seconds, and then breathes out. She can’t say the bitter retort she’s just barely holding back, otherwise this entire play at civility between her and Jim will come crashing down. But she lets it repeat in her head until she’s lost in the rhythm of it and her anger subsides.

_Then you tell that to Cody. To Nancy. To Tom. Tell them you left Rose for dead._

When Stella does speak again, her tone is neutral. “In that case, we should look for a way to catch Spector off guard, in a moment when he is unlikely to run from us or lash out against us. So long as Spector stays in his hotel, I’d like to propose this: we go to his hotel and stage a fake arrest in which we target the man we’ve set up there. We start to set up a crime scene, and then knock on doors asking people what they’ve seen. Paul Spector will have no choice but to cooperate so as not to draw attention to himself, and when he gives the officer his name, the officer won’t react. And then when the questioning is done, we arrest him.”

There are a several nods around the table. McNally is smiling, and Eastwood’s shit-eating grin is so obnoxious that Stella almost feels embarrassed for him. Jim looks wary as he picks up a pen and taps it against the table.

“You’re sure he’s not going to run as soon as he sees a police presence?” he asks.

“No, he won’t run. Because you’re going to be part of that police presence. And you’re not going to recognize him.”

Jim’s face reddens. There are murmurs of confusion around the room, and Stella realizes that barring herself, Eastwood, and one or two people in Forensics, no one here knows that Jim even went to her hotel room on Saturday night.

No, he’s made sure to keep that detail as private as possible.

It’s Martin who asks what they’re all thinking. “Sorry, ma’am, but why would he be less inclined to run away from an Assistant Chief Constable? Isn’t that counterintuitive? ACC Burns has appeared at several of the press conferences, too.”

“It’s an interesting thought, Stella,” Jim says gently, as if he’s trying to make her feel better about a mistake she’s made. “We might be able to work within the parameters of your idea, but I think—“

At that moment, one of the young techs from Forensics enters the bullpen. She’s trying to be discreet, but the entire room turns to look at her as she tiptoes in. She winces and waves awkwardly at the group before finding her supervisor. Everyone watches her in silence as she whispers to Alice, the second-in-command forensic scientist on the case, and they watch Alice’s eyes go wide as she reacts to whatever her tech is saying.

Alice clears her throat. “There’s been a development. It appears as if someone, presumably Spector, made a tiny hole in the stuffed animal and put a ribbon inside of it. One of the seams on the doll was ripped open, and it was later sewn back together. The ribbon had a phone number on it.”

Alice takes a piece of paper from her tech and passes it to Rick, who is already half way out of his chair. “I’m on it,” he says, and he takes the paper and heads to the one of the forensic suites. Alice and Ged go with him.

Stella studies the table, tries to visualize what happened between Spector and Olivia the night he broke in. He told he had something for her. They didn’t see him rip the animal, so it must have happened in Olivia’s room. He asked after a sewing kit that he knew Olivia had. And then he explained that he couldn’t see her except in secret. In pixieland, perhaps. But she would always be able to reach him if she just wished real hard, and then called the number inside of her new doll.

He was there twelve minutes. Easily enough time to make a few stitches, and someone with as much dexterity and appreciation for aesthetics as Spector would have no trouble with a sewing needle…

Burns interrupts her reconstruction. “You sat in on McNally’s interview of Sally Ann Spector?”

Stella winces. “I monitored.”

“Do you think she would be willing to participate in the arrest?”

Stella balks. She’s searching for a way to respond to that without getting herself fired when McNally gets Burns’s attention from across the table. “Sir, she’s frightened and pregnant,” McNally says.  She’s almost pleading. “She’s just had a major shock. Involving her in the arrest will be terrible for her mental and physical health, and it will probably jeopardize us.”

“But if Sally Ann goes to him and tells him she’ll allow him to see his daughter—there’s a situation he won’t run away from,” Burns counters. He rubs his chin and hums to himself, clearly infatuated with his own idea. Stella glances at McNally, and McNally raises her eyebrows as if to say _I can’t believe this is fucking happening right now_.

Stella looks from McNally to Eastwood, and she silently wills Eastwood to say something to bolster McNally’s objections. But he doesn’t. He’s probably happy just to see Burns self-destruct, no matter who gets hurt in the collateral damage.

Well, fuck him, then.

“I agree with DC McNally on this,” Stella says. “Involving Sally Ann is too risky.”

There’s a thrum of chatter around the room, but no one else offers an opinion one way or the other.

Burns leans forward to address McNally. “It won’t hurt to ask. McNally, go and talk to Sally Ann again. Take her temperature on the idea of participating in the arrest.” He considers this for a moment, and then he starts to get out of his chair. “Actually, I’ll come with you.”

Burns gives Stella a look that suggests that she is emphatically not invited. So instead of getting up, she wordlessly catches McNally’s eye.

Please don’t let him do this, she thinks.

McNally doesn’t react. She follows Burns out of the room and shuts the door behind her.

* * *

Forty minutes later, the team has dispersed. There’s a tacit understanding that they will reconvene as soon as there is an arrest strategy so they can discuss how to implement it. But with Burns off talking to Sally Ann, there was no reason for them to sit on their hands and wait for him.

Stella sits in her office and starts drafting up a proposal for what they would need for her strategy. It would require all of the resources they would normally use for a crime scene, but the team could easily move to Paul Spector’s hotel room once he was in custody. So, cost effective. The problem would be adjusting it if Spector did leave his hotel, but they are not short of undercover men they could pretend to arrest.

Partway through writing her list of personnel requirements, Stella hears a knock on the door. “Come in,” she says.

It’s McNally. She enters, shuts the door behind her, and sits in the chair in front of Stella’s desk. She leans forward so far her head is almost between her knees. “Sally Ann agreed to participate in the arrest,” she tells the floor. “ACC Burns is calling for a continuation of the earlier meeting, so we can put his strategy in place. He… He also wanted me to inform you that while he appreciates all of your hard work, he wants to be acting SIO at least through Spector’s arrest.”

Stella snaps her laptop closed. “He can’t. He doesn’t have enough knowledge of the case to oversee Spector’s arrest.”

McNally looks up at Stella and shakes her head sadly. “He’s Assistant Chief Constable, ma’am. He outranks you.”

Of course Stella already knows this, but the words still sting. She mirrors McNally’s slumped posture and buries her face in her hands.  And then she breathes in, deeply. Jim is doing this because he resents her for potentially destroying his career, but he also needs to prove to her that he isn’t the assailant that she reported him to be. That he’s a good police officer, and a good man.

And he’s going to ruin this entire investigation in the process.

Stella breathes out and lifts her head. She studies McNally’s damp and weary eyes; Stella doesn’t have the energy to imagine how the conversation with Sally Ann went, but judging how McNally looks, it mustn’t have been good.

Stella leaves her office without a word. She doesn’t need to look behind her to know that McNally is following.

Burns is already sitting at the head of the table when they arrive, and this time Stella sits on his left. He explains the arrest strategy: Sally Ann will call the pay-as-you-go phone number that Paul left in the ladybug. Rick and Ged located the phone, found that it was powered on although had not made or received any calls, and then triangulated it to Spector’s hotel. So a call to that number will reach him. Sally Ann will then ask him to come home to see the children, who have been inconsolable in his absence. The children, of course, will be safe and none the wiser at a Sally Ann friend’s Beth’s house. If Spector refuses, they’ll use Stella’s strategy, but if he accepts, they’ll set up in Spector’s house. Spector will arrive, and Sally Ann will direct him upstairs to where the arresting officers will be waiting for him.

Stella stares at her notes and suppresses a sigh. _HOW DO WE PROTECT SALLY ANN IF SHE ACCIDENTALLY GIVES HERSELF AWAY_ is all she’s written. She’s underlined it twice.

“Any questions?” Jim asks.

Stella leans back in her chair and turns to look at Jim. “Do we have a strategy in place if Spector attempts to hurt Sally Ann or hold her against her will?”

There’s a nervous silence. “Yes,” Jim says, finally. “We’ll have enough backup in the house to ensure Sally Ann’s safety.”

That answer’s not nearly specific enough for Stella, but when Jim looks back at her, his face flushes red and his nostrils flare. And then he quickly looks away.

 _You look at me like you looked at that bottle of scotch_.  Stella’s own words come back to her, and she stays silent.

The group breaks to receive more individualized instruction from Burns and Eastwood. Stella wordlessly gestures to McNally when Burns refers to the primary arresting offer, and Burns nods in assent. She recognizes that he’s given her this to placate her, but she’ll take the victories she can get at this point.

McNally, meanwhile, looks at Stella like she has three heads. But once she recovers from the shock of it, her eyes widen with understanding. She reaches for her bun and undoes her hair in one long, easy motion.

* * *

The arrest process unofficially begins with Sally Ann making the call the Spector. She’s sealed off in her own little soundproof room. She’s looking over several scripted lines have been typed out for her use. Rick is doing the official monitoring, but Burns, Stella, and Martin are all looking at her on the monitor.

McNally’s in the room with Sally Ann. She’s sitting in a chair in the corner: close enough so Sally Ann can see her and far enough away so as not to be heard.

“Are we ready?” Rick asks.

McNally looks at the camera and nods. And Rick makes the call.

Dial tone. Dial tone.

“Hello?” Paul’s picked up.

“Paul?”

They all listen to his heavy breathing, amplified through the sound system. “How did you get this number?”

Sally Ann sighs. “Paul, I found the ladybug you gave to Olivia. What, you think I wouldn’t notice? When did you give it to her, Paul? I know you miss her, and she misses you, but it can’t work like this. You sneaking around, giving her a _secret number?_ ”

“I can’t just not talk to them,” Spector says softly. “You can’t keep them from me. It’s unfair to all of us.”

Stella’s hands clench into fists.

“I know. Remember, I told you before we left for Scotland that our kids need a dad. And I stand by that,” Sally says. She swallows thickly, and across the room, McNally tenses.

“You told me to stay away from them.”

“I did,” Sally Ann admits. “But I was so angry then. Katie just told me some bullshit about you assaulting her, and I didn’t know what to believe, Paul. I think I’m calmer now. I think I can talk about it. Question is can _you_?”

Burns is studying the script he has in his hand, and from the look on his face, Stella can tell that Sally Ann has rewritten parts of it.  But whatever she’s done has worked because Paul’s quiet on the other line. Contemplative.

“I can,” he says.

“Good. Then we should talk. What are you doing now?”

“I’m… um…” He sputters for a bit before trailing off. It’s now almost two in the afternoon, and Mary has confirmed that Spector has not left his hotel. Katie Benedetto is at school, although her surveillance team believes she might be going somewhere of interest when she gets out. Spector might have her do something for him, and Stella suspects that he has been in bed all day, fantasizing about it.

“Why don’t you meet me at the house, in, I don’t know, maybe an hour?” Sally Ann sounds natural, like she’s just deciding this now. “I’m off in fifteen minutes, and then I’m picking the kids up from school. You can have a little time with them and then we’ll figure this all out.”

Paul breathes out. It’s a happy sound, one that almost makes Stella forget what this man is capable of. Almost. She steals a glance at Martin, who looks to be deep in thought.

“Okay. The house. In an hour. I’ll be there.”

“Good.” Sally says, and hangs up the phone.

The whole staff springs into action. Eastwood rounds up a small crowd of surveillance officers and goes to liaise with Control about where they should position themselves around Spector’s house.  McNally sits with Sally Ann and gives her detailed instructions on what will happen next. Martin arranges back-up, and they all check in with Burns at every juncture.

Stella, meanwhile, is aimless. She provides information when people need it, advises Martin and Eastwood on how best to manage Spector if he becomes violent, and quizzes whoever happens to be walking by on random details of the operation.

When Jim passes her, she reaches out and grabs his arm. He flinches at the contact, huffs out his nose, and then turns to look at her.

Stella crosses her arms. “Remove me as SIO? Really, Jim?”

“I don’t trust you anymore,” he snaps. He recovers, tries again. “If you’re actively trying to get me fired, then I can’t trust you to be objective with this investigation.”

She could easily spend half an hour unpacking everything _objectively_ wrong about that statement, but she can’t stall the operation like that. So she just nods and lets him go. When Spector’s in custody, then they’ll talk.

Jim has left little for her to do, so she looks at the pictures of Rose that Tanya sent her. Rose and Tanya with tequila shots. Rose kissing Tom’s cheek. Rose and Nancy in matching pyjama shorts.

Stella sighs. Tanya won’t let her forget Rose, not for a moment.  She’s half tempted to reply with Jim’s mobile number.

When everything is prepared, Sally Ann, McNally, Martin, and their surveillance, Forensics, and back-up teams all go to the Spector house. Forensics is two blocks away, surveillance and back-up are scattered along the street, and McNally, McNally’s arrest team, and Sally Ann enter the house.

Stella, Burns, and Eastwood watch them go in from a monitor in the control room. McNally moves to go upstairs with her team, but before she goes, Sally Ann grabs her hand.

“I’m so fucking scared,” Sally Ann whispers.

McNally squeezes Sally Ann’s hand but immediately lets it go. “Don’t be scared,” she says. “We’ve got you.” Stella recognizes how carefully McNally’s chosen her words; they can’t afford for Sally Ann to lose her nerve right now.

McNally and her team stand just outside the kids’ bedrooms; Sally Ann will send Paul up there to see Olivia only to have him meet McNally instead.

Paul’s not due for another fifteen minutes, but X-Ray One reports a car pulling in the driveway.

“X-Ray One to Control. That’s the target’s wife’s friend Beth and the target’s daughter Olivia walking up to the house.”

Stella breathes in. Can’t quite let it out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay and the heavy procedural aspect of this chapter. Next one is action packed and god-willing will come sooner.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The arrest strategy goes straight to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has very much been made possible by Google Maps. You are welcome to follow along at a Google Maps near you! 
> 
> For those of you who say I do procedure well... bear in mind that this chapter ESPECIALLY has no basis in reality.

Mary’s voice shakes a little bit as she confirms what’s she’s getting from the surveillance team. “Control from X-Ray One, that’s the target’s wife’s friend Beth and the target’s daughter walking up to the house.”

“ _Fuck!,”_ Stella shouts, and pounds her hand against the table. “Get that girl away from there! _”_

Burns scrubs a hand across his beard and sighs. He glances at Eastwood as if to say _you deal with her._

When Eastwood turns to look at her, his eyes are soft. “What, by shoving her into a police car? Let her in the house. We’re set her up with a plainclothes officer somewhere removed from where all of this is happening. Maybe in the yard. No one will even notice.”

Stella glares at him. “You think that will keep her safe?”

Eastwood gets close to her so Burns doesn’t hear. “Do you think anyone in this operation is really safe?”

Stella walks to the back of the room, grabs a file of warrant requests, and removes the papers. She starts counting them: one, two, three, four, five… by ten, the worst of her anger has dissipated and she feels like she can rejoin the group.

Mary has just reported Sally Ann letting Beth and Olivia into the house. Burns is already instructing Sally Ann and McNally: introduce a plainclothes officer as a new babysitter, and get them behind the house in the Spectors’ yard. There’s a surveillance team parked a short distance away on Dudley street in case they need anything.

Stella brings her hand to her face and chews a nail. “She’s going to want to see her daddy.”

“Oh, not that much,” Eastwood responds with a quiet chuckle. As if he knows.

They all watch the monitor as Beth and Olivia enter the house. Sally Ann’s face is entirely blank; her friend will probably think she is just tired.  But maybe Olivia will sense something is wrong.

“Sorry to bother you,” Beth says in a rush. “I know you have another shift soon, but Olivia left her dolls here and she won’t come back to mine without them. She just needs to run upstairs and get them.”

“ _No,_ ” Sally Ann says much too abruptly. She collects herself. “My shift was actually just cancelled. I was about to call you, so it’s good that you’re here. Olivia can stay. Why don’t you go home and relax, yeah?”

Beth shrugs. “I can stay for tea—“

“ _No._ I mean, that’s nice of you, but now’s not a good time. Thanks for dropping Olivia off.”

“Mum,” Olivia cuts in, “where is my ladybug?”

“Not now, sweetie. Come on, I have someone I want you to meet.”

Beth looks a little concerned but says nothing. She leaves the house, gets in her car, and drives off, and just when she reaches the border of their surveillance, they get a broadcast from the X-Ray team.

“X-Ray Two to Control. Target turning on to University Avenue from College Park East. Approaching the house from the west.”

Paul is fives houses away just as Sally Ann ushers Olivia outside to “meet the new babysitter.” Olivia has her backpack and a pile of her reading assignments that Sally Ann’s picked up from the kitchen table. When they get outside, DC Larkin is standing in the Spectors’ sad little yard. The other half of the X-Ray team reports the interaction: DC Larkin introduces herself as Aisling the new babysitter, and Olivia says nothing in response. And Sally Ann leaves them there.

“X-Ray Two to Control. Target approaching the house and ringing the doorbell.”

They watch as Sally Ann paces through the kitchen, takes a huge breath and then goes to open the door for him. He comes into the house, and they linger awkwardly in kitchen. Each waiting for the other to speak.

“How’ve you been, Paul?” Sally Ann finally asks.

“For these few days? All right. You?”

Sally Ann looks down and shrugs. “I’m doing okay. It’s not easy.”

“You wanted me gone.” He raises his eyebrows and moves towards Sally Ann. Stella grabs a chair and sits right next to Mary, right in front of the monitor.

“I know,” Sally Ann says softly. “I’m just… this pregnancy is going to be harder than the others. I can feel it.”

Paul takes another step towards Sally Ann. “You’re going to see it through?”

Sally Ann nods. In the control room, Burns leans over Stella’s shoulder and watches Spector take yet another step closer. “Okay,” Burns says. “Time to send him upstairs.”

There is, of course, no way to communicate this to Sally Ann, but she seems to have sensed it anyway. “The kids are upstairs in their rooms. Why don’t you say hi to them and then we’ll talk?”

“Okay,” Paul says, and smiles slightly. Stella sits up straighter in her chair. He starts walking up the stairs, and for just a second Stella thinks that they might just be home free, and she can tell that Burns is ready to relax. Stella almost lets herself do the same.

“Daddy!”

The voice is clearly not coming from upstairs. Olivia runs into kitchen holding a few stray pieces of paper in one hand and one of her Barbies in the other. Paul glances warily at Sally Ann, who is opening and closing her mouth but finding no words to account for her daughter’s sudden appearance.

“Hi, darling.” Paul’s confused, but he opens his arms for Olivia anyway.

“ _Fucking hell_ ,” Stella says under her breath. She then turns her whole body around so she’s looking at Burns and Eastwood. “Did I not stand here ten minutes ago and say that she’s going to want her daddy?”

Eastwood has the decency to look chastised. Burns just stares at the monitor and doesn’t say anything. The three of them sit there helplessly and watch Paul hug Olivia.

“McNally to Control,” McNally’s voice, clipped and quiet through Jim’s headset, makes Stella look away from the monitor. “What’s the hold up?”

“We’ve got a situation,” Jim says. “Olivia heard Paul come in and has joined her parents in the kitchen.”

“Okay,” McNally says. She’s eerily calm. “Sir, what’s the strategy for this situation?”

Stella looks up at Burns expectantly. “What _is_ the strategy?” she asks, even though she already knows the answer.

Jim sighs deeply into his headset. “We don’t have one.”

“Bit stupid of us, in retrospect,” Eastwood adds.

Stella glowers at them. Sometimes she wonders if any actual police work gets done between them.

“We’re keeping a close watch on Spector,” Jim tells McNally. “Stand by for further instruction.”

Olivia offers her doll for her father to hold, a blonde one, and then shows him the pieces of paper she’s holding. “Daddy, look, I made some drawings for class. See, that’s me, I’m grown up and I’m so tall and my arms are so long that I can hold my head above the clouds!”

Paul studies the drawing. His brow furrows; he appears to be considering what the picture could tell him about his daughter’s psyche. Does he recognize himself reflected back in what she’s creating? Can he see Olivia coming back to these drawings, traumatized and betrayed, as clearly as Stella can?

He sifts through the pages and stops when he reaches the last one in the small pile. He stares at it for several seconds, and then he bends his knees so he’s just about Olivia’s height.

From where they’ve set up the cameras, they can’t see his eyes.

“Where did you find this?” he asks Olivia. He turns the paper around so Olivia can see the drawing on it. They don’t have a clear view of it on the monitor, but Stella can guess what it is.

It’s Olivia’s drawing of the pregnant woman that they found on Ian Kay’s letter. And someone on the surveillance team put it back in the wrong place.

“It was on the table with my other drawings,” Olivia says, confused. “My teacher must have given it back to me.”

Stella can almost feel the wheels turning in Paul’s mind. He looks up at Sally Ann, and she won’t look back at him. “Nothing seems to be where it’s supposed to be today, is it?” he whispers to Olivia, but it’s loud enough for Sally Ann to hear it.

And Sally Ann is standing in the middle of the kitchen, completely frozen.

“I have an idea,” Paul says, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Why don’t I spend my time with Olivia in the Botanic Gardens? You’d like that, Olivia, wouldn’t you?”

“Paul, I don’t that’s a good idea,” Sally mumbles.  Olivia, meanwhile, is beaming at him.

“Can we, Mummy, please?”

Jim is watching all of this unfold in total horror. “We’re going to have to get him outside the house,” he says. “Martin can probably make a dash for it and arrest him at the front door.”

Stella grimaces. “In front of his daughter?”

“We don’t have a choice, Stella,” Jim says, and he looks back up at the monitor.

“Well, I say we can,” Paul tells Olivia. “So let’s go.”

Paul gathers Olivia up in his arms and carries her toward the door. She’s heavy, so he moves slower than Stella knows he can move, but she can tell by his posture that he’s ready to run off with Olivia at any moment.

Because he’s figured it out. The drawing tipped him off; he knows now that it’s a set up.

But as Paul opens the door and prepares to cross the threshold, Sally Ann yanks herself out of her state of shock.

“Oi!,” she shouts from the kitchen. “I never said yes! No! You can’t take her to Botanic Gardens! You can’t!”

The surveillance camera in the front hall captures the moment for Stella to see: Paul runs across the pavement with Olivia clasped to his chest. He moves easily, gracefully, cutting through the air like it’s water. Stella watches him as he throws open the door of Sally Ann’s car, pours Olivia into the backseat, and then jumps behind the wheel. Hits the gas.

Martin, who is impersonating a pedestrian going for a run in a last-ditch attempt to nab Spector, seems to be miles behind.

Stella puts her head in her hands. What a fucking massive cock-up.

She looks up at Jim and silently reaches for his headset. His mouth is set on a hard line, and he stares at Stella for a long stretch of time before tugging the headset off his ears and handing it to her.

And she gets straight to work.

“Where are we in relation to him?” Stella asks Mary.

Mary has been reporting all of these events with her usual perfect accuracy. She turns to one of her computer screens and brings up three different maps from the PSNI Portal. Stella looks over her shoulder.

 “The map on the far left shows uniformed officers in marked cars in the vicinity,” she tells Stella in between frantic repetitions of various broadcasts to Control. “The map in the middle shows our surveillance team and their unmarked vehicles. You’re going to need both to trail him…”

“…But only the unmarked ones should be visible to him. Can’t let him know we’re actually after him.” Stella finishes. She sighs. “I don’t know these streets that well, Mary. “

“I’ve got it, ma’am,” Mary replies. “Spector’s heading north on Orneau Avenue. We can direct our surveillance cars through the side streets so their tailing will appear organic.”

“Thank you, Mary,” Stella breathes out in relief. She stands up, adjusts her hair under her headset, and then turns the headset on.

“McNally, where are you?”

“In the house with Sally Ann, ma’am.” Stella looks at the monitor and sees McNally sitting at the kitchen table with Sally Ann.  “I was told to wait for further instruction.”

Sally Ann’s eyes are bloodshot and her face is red. Their monitor is high definition, so Stella can see her hands and shoulders shaking. When she sees McNally talking through the body mic in her shirt, she fixes her gaze on McNally’s collar.

Then, without any warning, she leans into McNally and shouts into her shirt.

“YOU’RE THE FUCKING POLICE! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING! GET MY DAUGHTER BACK!”

Body mics aren’t built to support someone screaming directly into them, so Sally Ann’s voice comes through in staticky bursts. Eastwood cringes. Stella’s headset gets the worst of it, and she can barely keep herself from flinching.

 She covers the mouthpiece on her headset and turns back to look at Eastwood and Burns. “We deserved that,” she says.

“I’ll say,” Eastwood mutters.

Stella turns back around to focus on the monitor. She sees that McNally has removed her earpiece and placed in on the table. Stella, recognizing what McNally is asking her to do, speaks loudly and enunciates every word: “Sally Ann, this is Detective Superintendent Gibson. We fucked this up, but we’re going to fix this now. And we’re going to get Olivia back to you.”

“And she’ll be safe?” Sally Ann whispers into the body mic.

“Yes.”

“You promise?”

Stella sighs. “I do. I’m going to need DC McNally back now.”

McNally picks up her earpiece and puts it back in her ear. She gestures to DC Larkin, who is pacing through the living room, and has Larkin join Sally Ann in the kitchen. McNally takes a final look at Sally Ann on her way out, and Stella takes one final look at the monitor for the Spector home before turning to Mary and her maps.

Sally Ann is shaking. Larkin reaches for her hand, but Sally Ann jolts it back and then quickly covers her mouth. She then lets out a wail that seems to come from the core of her body, and her hand does little to stifle the noise.

Stella looks away. If she stares at the monitor any longer, she won’t be able to do her job.

Stella adjusts her headset. “McNally, where are you?”

“I just walked out of the house,” she says. Stella can hear a slight catch in her voice, how close she must have been to tears. “Are there any instructions for me, ma’am?”

“Not yet. But you’re still the arresting officer, so be ready to go as soon as I say when.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Stella turns her attention to Mary’s screens. She could see six of their vehicles on Mary’s map of unmarked surveillance cars, and Mary has directed them to different locations on Orneau Road and then north on Victoria Street. There is one, and Stella almost laughs at the irony, that is stationed at the Hilton Belfast.

And there is one just a car behind Spector.

“Spector’s travelling north,” Mary says. “If I had to bet money on it, I’d guess that he’s heading up to Larne to get a ferry to Scotland.”

“And what does that route look like?“ Stella asks. Mary types a few things into the map system and the path illuminates.

“Straight shot up the M2, ma’am,” Mary answers.

Stella considers that for a moment. “Can you pull up a map of patrol officers who are stationed on the M2?”

Mary’s got it pulled up before Stella even finishes her request. “We’ve got Hogan near the Yorkgate station and Ferrington at the Dargan Road roundabout near the ASDA.”

 _Ferrington._ This just might work after all. “Get me Ferrington.”

In less than a minute, Mary has Dani on the line. “PC Ferrington.”

“Dani.” Stella breathes out; she’s not even bothering to hide her relief. “I need you do something for me.”

Stella can almost hear Dani’s brow furrow. “What is it, ma’am?”

“I don’t have time to explain this, but I need you to stop Paul Spector for speeding.”

_“What?”_

Stella gives Dani a few seconds to process, just enough time for her to listen to the broadcasts coming from the surveillance cars and confirm that yes, Spector is going to get on the M2. She barrels on with her request.  “In approximately ten minutes, you’ll see a blue Volvo, license plate LBZ 6227. I need you to turn on the camera in your car and pull over that car for speeding. In that car are Paul Spector and his daughter. Go through the motions of anyone else you would pull over; it is very likely that he will be above the speed limit. Do not at any moment betray that you’ve ever heard his name before. I’m going to be sending the arresting officer to your location. You’re going to need to find a way to get his daughter into your car so DC McNally can arrest Spector.”

“Um… and how do I do that, ma’am?” Dani asks, and her voice nearly squeaks as the end of her question. Mary gives Stella a concerned look, clearly confused as to why Stella would want Dani over the more experienced Hogan. Eastwood and Burns, who have been doing little besides standing behind Stella and silently observing, are absolutely unsurprised. They know that Stella trusts Dani, even if they don’t understand why.

“You’ll think of something,” Stella replies. Because she knows Dani will.

Stella has Mary keep Dani on the line as she shifts her attention to her primary arresting officer. “McNally?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“There’s going to be an unmarked car pulling in front of the Spector house. It’s for you. They’ll be taking you to a location on the M2 where a patrol cop is going to stop Spector for speeding and hold him for you. You’ll meet the patrol cop and arrest him there.”

“Got it, ma’am.”

Everything that happens next happens, thankfully, according to plan. They let Spector get on the M2, but they never let him out of their sight. Rick makes sure the camera that’s in Dani’s car is connected to the control room. One of the surveillance cars picks up McNally, and they’re on their way to the M2 when Dani’s voice comes over the system.

“Blue Volvo, license plate LBZ 6227 going 140 kilometers per hour. I’m pursuing and flashing my lights, standard procedure for speeding.”

It’s a tense two minutes waiting for Dani to bring Spector to the side of the road. If he doesn’t acknowledge Dani, then the plan will fall to bits and they’ll have to treat this like a chase. With all of the dangers that entails, and an eight-year-old girl in the car.

But then there’s a small clicking sound, and one of the monitors at the edge of the room springs to life. _Thank you, Rick_. And on the screen is Dani walking up to Spector’s driver side window.

They don’t have a clear view, and the audio they get from Dani’s body mic is muffled. But it’s enough.

“Sir, did you have any idea how fast you were going just then?” Dani asks. She sounds precise and professional. Stella breathes out; she’ll be _fine._

“No,” Spector says.

“That was 165 kilometers per hour. Do you know what the limit is on this road?”

“Not that?” Stella hears a tremor in his voice. She frowns. The last thing they want to do is scare him.

“It’s 120, sir. Can I see your driver’s license and vehicle registration please?”

There’s some rustling which must be Spector getting it for her.

“Moment of truth,” Eastwood says. Stella ignores it.

“Paul Spector,” Dani recites. “Thank you, sir. Vehicle is registered to Sally Ann Spector, I presume that’s your wife?”

“Yes, that’s my wife,” Spector says. The fear has drained from his voice, replaced with a poorly-hidden mocking confidence. Stella grins.

“And my mum!” a little voice adds from somewhere far away.

“Oh, hello there!” Dani all but coos. Stella can hear Dani’s giant smile. “Was your daddy driving really fast?”

Olivia says something unintelligible in response. Dani hums to herself and answers: “Well, sometimes when you’re in the back seat you can’t really feel it. What’s your name?”

“I’m Olivia,” she says.

“And I’m Dani. It’s nice to meet you.” They can hear Dani lean forward into Spector’s car, perhaps to offer Olivia a handshake.

The sound from the body mic becomes clearer; Dani must have shifted her head in some way. “Sir, as a uniformed officer, I’m expected to spend some time in classrooms. I’m actually starting at a local school next week, and I’m nervous about it. Do you mind if I spend some time with your daughter, show her around my car a bit? I’d be happy to let you go without a fine if you agree.”

Dani sounds so sincere, so impossibly earnest, that Stella can’t help but smirk at her colleagues. She absolutely got the right person for this job.

Spector hums noncommittally. “Sure. Just bring her back when you’re done.”

“Yes, sir,” Dani says cheerfully, and some rustling indicates that she might be moving her arm across the mic. It takes a few moments for Stella to realize what Dani is doing; she’s giving Spector and Olivia a mock salute.

God, Spector must think she’s a total idiot. Stella concentrates and tries to see Dani as Spector might see her. A woman at the absolute bottom of the police hierarchy, completely oblivious to the fact that she’s saluting the very man her bosses are trying to catch. Not bright enough to finish school, in all likelihood. Not intelligent enough to achieve much of anything at all.

Stella stands up. She stretches her arms behind her to relieve some of the built up tension, cranes her neck back, and then lets herself relax. She feels Burns’s eyes on her, but she pays them no mind.

Burns, however, feels compelled to say something. “What the _hell_ are you doing?”

Stella shrugs. “Stretching. It’s good for the mind _and_ the body, Jim. You should try it.”

Jim scoffs and points at the monitor. “That’s your officer out there.”

“Oh, Dani?  Dani’s fine.”

But Stella does return her attention to the monitor; they have a better view now that Dani's closer to the camera on the vehicle. Dani opens her car door and sits in the driver’s seat. “All right, Olivia, you want to sit next to me or on my lap?”

“I’m too big to sit on your lap, silly,” Olivia says.

“Well, I’m bigger than you and sometimes I need to sit on people’s laps,” Dani tells Olivia. “Are you sure?”

Olivia smiles. “All right, then.”

Dani starts showing Olivia around the dashboard, pointing what makes her car different than anyone else’s. With Dani and Olivia in Dani’s car, Spector could very easily get away right now; she can sense Eastwood and Burns’s anxiety permeating the room. Even Mary seems a bit jumpy.

He could get away, but he won’t. And he doesn’t. Because he’s enjoying this.

McNally‘s voice comes in through Stella’s headset. “We’ve reached the roundabout at Dargan Road, ma’am.”

“Good,” Stella says. “Spector’s half a kilometer up the road, but pull over _now._ You need to pull up behind the patrol cop car. And just try to be quiet about it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They all watch in silence as McNally, with her hair down and the top two buttons of her blouse undone, strides into the frame on the monitor. Her two arrest facilitators, both men, follow her. Paul is leaning back against his car, and his head is turned sideways and he is focused on Dani, who, from the sounds of her body mic, is having quite a laugh with Olivia.

By the time he sees McNally coming, it’s too late. He makes a move to run, but McNally’s men flank him and pull his arms behind his back.

“I’m DC Gail McNally. Paul Spector, I’m arresting you for the abduction and unlawful imprisonment of Rose Stagg. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

She nods, and the arrest facilitators cuff him. McNally walks them all past Dani’s patrol car, and Olivia sees them. Paul looks at her as he passes, and she immediately starts to cry.

“Daddy? DADDY?! WHERE ARE THEY TAKING MY DADDY?”

Dani tries to calm her as she secures all her doors and prepares to bring Olivia back to the station. McNally puts Spector in the arrest car, and then sits in the front seat, next to her driver. And then both cars drive back onto the M2 and start their way back to the station.

In the control room, there are a few nervous whispers, followed by some tentative applause. “Well done,” Eastwood says.

Stella doesn’t acknowledge him. “Get me Sally Ann Spector,” she instructs Mary.

For the first time in the week that Stella’s known her, Mary doesn’t respond right away. “You’ve got him,” she says gently. “Congratulations, ma’am.”

Stella glares at her. “Sally Ann, please.”

Mary sighs and gets Sally Ann on the line. Stella can, if she wants to, get a visual feed of the house, but now it feels like an invasion of Sally Ann’s privacy.

As if they hadn’t been invading Sally Ann’s privacy for almost a week now.

Sally Ann’s voice breaks as she answers the phone. “Is there news?”

Stella nods, and then remembers that Sally Ann can’t see it.  “I wanted you to be the first to know that we have Olivia in our custody. She’s with a patrol officer, and she’s on her way to the station now.”

“Oh my god,” Sally Ann says softly, and then she begins to cry. “ _Thank you._ Thank you so much. I’ll drive over right away.”

“Sally Ann, we have your car,” Stella reminds her.

“Oh. Right. Of course. And… um… Paul?”

“Under arrest.”

On the other line, there is the sound of something being dropped, small objects scattering. “Jesus Christ. Just… have someone tell Olivia that Mummy’s on her way. I’ll have someone pick up Liam—“

“We’ll send someone,” Stella says. “We have a few staff members who specialize in working with children. They’ll know how to talk to him so he’ll feel safe coming to the station. And they will be waiting for Olivia when she arrives.”

Stella can hear Sally Ann hoist whatever it was she dropped, probably a purse or a bag, off the floor. “You knew we had kids, yeah? And you didn’t have those specialists involved to begin with?” she asks sharply.

Stella sighs. Sally Ann’s absolutely right. “As I said, we fucked up. I’d be very happy to refer you to my superior, the Assistant Chief Constable, and he’ll walk you through what happened on our end.”

“Okay. Good. All right, the fake babysitter wants me to get in her car. Stella, I guess I’ll see you at the station.”

Stella hesitates when she hears her first name. She has to stop herself from correcting Sally Ann, telling her to use _Gibson._ Even though she knows how inappropriate and insensitive that would be. “You will, definitely,” she says, finally, and Sally Ann ends the call.

Stella becomes aware of the noise and activity in the control room; there are more people here now. The team must have relocated from the bullpen. They have realized that Spector has really, truly been caught, and everyone is smiling and shaking each other’s hands. They are enjoying these few moments of respite and celebration before they have to process and question Spector.

Mary has abandoned her post, so Stella sits in Mary’s chair and opens the programs running on Mary’s computer. She finds the broadcast from Dani’s body mic, makes sure it’s connected properly to her headset, and unmutes it.

Olivia Spector is still screaming for her daddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm literally moving house this week, so it might take some time to get back in the swing of things. Please stick with me :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Spector's in custody, Stella assesses just where she needs to go from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My revision process for this chapter went as follows: is this feminist enough? How can I make this more explicitly feminist? 
> 
> Trigger warnings: mentions of sexual assault and harassment.
> 
> Oh, and if you like Tom Anderson, sorry. Hahaha, that's a lie, I'm not sorry at all.

When Spector arrives at the station, the real work begins.

All of the items on Spector’s person are immediately processed as evidence. The audio and visual forensics team says that there is almost an hour’s worth of video material on his phone, as well as over three hundred pictures. The team at Spector’s house is prioritizing any material used for storing data—USB ports, hard drives, CDs—but Stella doesn’t think Spector would be that sloppy.

The team going to Spector’s hotel is currently stalled because Katie Benedetto’s surveillance team is convinced that she’s going there to meet him later in the afternoon.

“Katie told her friend that she’s meeting Spector at his hotel and that she’s spending the night with him,” Mary reports. She’s reclaimed her place in front of the monitor, and Stella’s now sitting a few seats away. “We missed it because we were arresting Spector. The forensics team is trying to discredit it because they want to get into the room, but I’ve just recovered the audio surveillance from the system. They want to see if she’s going there to destroy evidence and catch her in the act.”

Stella considers that for a moment. Not all together a bad strategy. “And they’re waiting for my go ahead?”

Mary nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, we can’t get Katie on obstructing justice because we currently have no proof that she lied to us,” Stella muses. “And if we set up a crime scene and question her there, she won’t cooperate. And since we do need to question her, arresting her is probably our best course of action. Tell Katie’s surveillance team to proceed. But _cautiously_.”

Mary relays the information to the forensics and surveillance teams, and Stella takes a moment and steps out of the control room. Her team is scattered amidst the giant operation: some are with the forensics teams at the house and the hotel, some are processing evidence, and some are with McNally mapping out an interview strategy for Spector. She is waiting for updates from all of them.

And the child psychologist promised to be in touch about the Spector children.  And she really should try to find Sally Ann.

She goes to the washroom to splash some water on her face and touch up her makeup, but she finds that someone is already standing in front of the mirror, trying to remove smudged mascara with a paper towel and water.

Tanya.

Stella goes through her bag and finds her make-up remover, and then she holds it out for Tanya. “Use this,” she says.

Tanya must not have seen her approach because she inhales audibly in surprise. “God,” she whispers. And then: “Thank you.”

She takes the small bottle from Stella, and their fingers brush. Stella has to move her hands away immediately because her physical reaction is just so strong. And now, for the first time since it happened, she can let herself think about their kiss. She can let herself experience the wave of arousal that accompanies the memory.

She watches Tanya wet the paper towel with the make-up remover and gently wipe away the black splotches from below her eyes.  Stella takes a step closer to the mirror so she’s standing just behind Tanya. She and Tanya are about the same height, but in the mirror, Stella looks tired and so small. And when Tanya lifts her head slightly to clean the corners of her eyes, the height disparity is arresting.

“I’m sorry I haven’t kept you up to date.” Stella says after a long pause.

Tanya studies her face in the mirror. When she speaks, she doesn’t look at Stella. “There’s a lot of talk about Spector’s arrest.  In Forensics. Sounds like it happened really quickly.”

Stella steps in front of the mirror so she’s facing Tanya and Tanya can’t look away. She sighs, shakes her head. “We cocked it all up, Tanya,” she whispers.

Tanya presses her lips into a thin line; Stella recognizes the expression from their conversation about James Olsen in the car. “So it’s true, then. You arrested Spector but you didn’t find Rose?”

Stella resists the impulse to turn away; she needs to look Tanya in the eye for this. “We didn’t find Rose. There was pressure from ACC Burns to make an arrest...”

“Since when do you break under pressure?” Tanya snaps.

“I was removed as SIO from the case,” Stella snaps back. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Tanya takes a step back, as if doing so will clear this sudden flare of tension between them. Stella’s heart is pounding, and she recognizes the restless, frustrated desire that she sometimes experiences when cases go badly.  Now she wants nothing more than to back them both into a stall and fuck this woman until she’s too exhausted to think of just how badly she’s failed her. And failed Rose.

But that’s so much less than Tanya deserves.

Stella closes her eyes and rests her forehead in her hand. She imagines, for a moment, that she’s swimming. Stroke, stroke, breath. Stroke, stroke, breath. After several long beats of that, she looks up.

In response, Tanya looks down and shifts to the side. “I sometimes wonder why I told you about Rose in the first place.”

“You wanted to help,” Stella responds. “You saw what Spector did to those women, and you thought you had information that could help catch him. If everyone were—“

“Was that it, though?” Tanya cuts her off. She’s staring right at Stella now, and her voice is louder than Stella thinks she’s heard it before. “I was drawn to you from the beginning. I don’t think I was able to recognize why until that night in Bert’s Bar, but I... I think I wanted to connect with you, somehow. And Rose, she connected us. And I was selfish enough...”

“No,” Stella says firmly.

“...That I used her to...”

“ _No_ ,” Stella repeats, stronger this time. “The moment Rose chose to speak with me, she was my responsibility. I should have protected her, and I _failed._ You and Rose both trusted me—it doesn’t matter why you trusted me, but you did.  And I broke that trust.  It’s on me. Not you, never you.”

Tanya swallows and then flashes Stella a bitter smile. “That’s not what you said at the bar.”

“Oh, fuck what I said at the bar!”

Tanya jerks her head back, surprised at Stella’s outburst. “You said we were responsible for Rose going missing. That _both of us_ were.”

“Well, you weren’t the only one who wanted to feel connected!”

Stella says those words before she is able to process them, and Tanya kisses her faster than she can process that, too. It’s careless and inelegant: their teeth clink, and Stella wants to suck on Tanya’s lower lip but she can’t quite get her mouth there. After second or two, Tanya pulls away sharply. 

“Sorry,” Tanya says. “I wasn’t—“

She’s interrupted by the Stella’s mobile vibrating. Stella smiles at Tanya apologetically and takes the call.

“Gibson.”

“It’s Hagstrom, ma’am. I wanted to report that we found Katie Benedetto at Spector’s hotel trying to burn a few locks of hair and flushing a computer memory card down a toilet. We’ve recovered what we could of the evidence, and she’s in custody now, ma’am.”

“Thanks,” Stella says. “Make sure she doesn’t end up in a cell, and then call me when she’s ready to be interviewed.”

“Will do, ma’am.”

Stella hangs up and turns her attention back to Tanya. “There’s so much I need to do.”

Tanya shoves her hands in her pockets and shrugs. She’s blushing, and Stella finds it a bit sweet. Tanya _fancies_ her, like a teenager would. Stella smiles sadly at the thought.

“Okay,” Tanya says. “You will keep me up to date?”

“The moment after I know, you know,” Stella promises.

And then she leans in and kisses Tanya at the corner of her mouth. Tanya’s lips form a silent ‘o’ as Stella pulls away. And then Tanya smiles, and Stella has to stop herself from smiling back; she needs to refocus. But as she leaves the bathroom, she takes a big breath in, and then effortlessly lets it go.

* * *

With both Spector and Katie in custody, Stella has no reason to return to the control room. Instead she heads upstairs to the evidence room; she needs to be briefed on the video material they’ve found on Spector’s phone.

When she gets to the evidence room, though, she finds that ACC Burns is standing in front of the door.

“It’s all still being processed,” he tells her. “I think we need have a discussion about division of power before we start interviewing Spector.”

“You mean officially reinstating me as SIO?”

“Possibly,” Burns says carefully. “My office is free.”

ACC Burns’s office is tucked away in a quiet corner of the station. It’s close enough to the evidence room that it gives that illusion that Burns is still an active participant in investigative police work, but it’s removed enough for him to host members of the policing executive and other people of influence.

When they arrive, he gestures for her to have a seat in one of the plush chairs opposite his desk. She declines with a quick shake of her head. Apparently he won’t sit down if she won’t, so they both pace around their respective sides of the desk.

Burns breaks the silence. “You understand my hesitation in reinstating you as SIO.”

“No, actually,” Stella replies stiffly. “I don’t.  If I remember correctly, I came to Belfast at your request. I’ve been here for almost a month, Jim, at the expense of several ongoing cases at the Met, and I have done nothing but exemplary work for you.  So no, I do not understand your hesitation in reinstating me as SIO.”

Jim guffaws. “You went to a colleague _behind my back_ and used sensitive, private information to make a damaging report. You’ve displayed casual disregard for your superiors and for those who report to you. There have been complaints from DC Martin about your behavior, not to mention how your sexual exploits have derailed media attention surrounding the case. In all honesty, I should have made the decision to dismiss you and send you back to London some time ago.”

Stella stops in front of one of the chairs, leans forward, and grips both of its arms. “Which one disqualifies me as an investigator, hmm? The report I made to Eastwood? The complaint of a lone DC? The one night stand?”

“ _Stella_. You’re completely--”

“Don’t, Jim,” she says. “Seriously. It is my professional responsibility to report any corrupt activity, and you knew that when you came to my hotel room and told me what you did. And it is absolutely my right to report a sexual assault perpetrated against me to the appropriate authorities.”

“For God’s sake, Stella, it wasn’t a sexual assault!”

“The law on sexual offenses in Northern Ireland covers any kind of sexual touching without consent,” Stella recites. “It includes touching any part of the body, clothed or unclothed. Jim, you were touching me in a sexual manner when I had not given you consent, and that’s sexual assault. That’s breaking the law. It’s the same law that we’re both here to uphold.”

Jim sits down at his desk. “Sometimes I forget about your legal training, Stella.”

Stella scoffs under her breath. He’s not wrong about her training. After she’d completed her degree in anthropology, she’d done a legal conversion course in the hopes of becoming a becoming a barrister. She’d gone on to complete the Bar Professional Training Course, but she’d gotten so _bored_ during pupillage that she’d up and quit right before the end, much to the chagrin of her mother and her aunts.

But her training is irrelevant. _This_ law is one that should be known to every police officer who does any work whatsoever in sexual crime.

Stella finally takes the seat across from him, and she leans forward so that her elbows are resting on his desk. “You don’t need me to tell you that you need a solicitor,” she tells him. “I’d guess that Internal Affairs will be more interested in pursuing a corruption case than bothering with the sexual assault, but it can’t hurt to be prepared.”

“Why?” Jim asks softly. “Why did you make that statement?”

Stella lets her body slump back into the chair. She holds Jim’s gaze; she only speaks when she’s sure that Jim is ready to listen to her. “Because I don’t think you brought me to Belfast just for this case. I think you brought me here so you could sort out whatever... feelings you have for me.  And when I wasn’t willing to be what you needed me to be, then you lashed out against me. And that’s not fair to me, Jim, that’s not fair to anyone working on this case, and it’s especially not fair to Spector’s victims and their families. Rose Stagg is still out there. What are you going to tell Tom when he asks you what you did to save her life?”

 A long silence passes between them.  Stella’s gaze continues to bore into Jim, daring him to say something.

He doesn’t.  So Stella continues. “I think you should reinstate me SIO, for a start. I can work with DC McNally to craft an interview strategy—“

“Did it mean anything to you?” Jim blurts out. “The night we spent together?”

Stella sighs. She remembers her night with Jim, but what she remembers more clearly is checking her phone in the morning for a message from a woman in the dog support unit who had caught her eye. He was only ever meant to hold her over until she could get what she really wanted.

“In all honesty, Jim, I never intended it to be more than a casual encounter,” she says. “I’m sorry if this wasn’t clear to you at the time.”

“It wasn’t clear to me at the time,” Jim mutters.

There’s nothing for her to say to that. Perhaps she could have been firmer with him after they slept together, but she won’t be made to feel responsible for Jim’s inability to separate his emotions and his work. She stands up again. “It seems that there’s nothing more to say about that, then.  Have I been reinstated as SIO?”

“So long as there’s—“ Jim starts, but he’s interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Stella says, and Rick shuffles into the room awkwardly.

“Hello, sir. Ma’am. We’ve finished recovering the media from Paul Spector’s phone. Ma’am, there are some videos that you need to see.”

Rick holds the door open for Stella and Stella walks right out of Jim’s office. She doesn’t look back for Jim’s permission to leave; she doesn’t need it.

* * *

_I feel sorry for you. I really do. You must have had a terrible childhood to be able to do this to me._

Stella pauses the video of Rose. She’s watched it almost all the way through, and she’s not sure she can keep going for much longer. She needs to take a moment to catch her breath and wipe the tears from her face.

Stella’s eyes have to adjust to not looking at a screen; she feels like she’s been watching Rose for hours. She does a double take when she thinks sees her dream journal sitting next to the laptop, and then relaxes when she realizes that it’s just her notepad.

 It’s not procedurally sound for her to close the laptop before she’s finished watching the evidence, but she does anyway. There’s a new batch of tears waiting just behind her eyes, and she can’t stop herself from seeing it all again in her head. She lingers on Rose trying to seduce Spector.

There’s a hesitant knock on the door. Stella rubs the back of her hand across her cheek to catch the last of her tears. “Who’s there?”

“It’s McNally, ma’am.”

“Come in, then,” Stella says. She opens the laptop and brings the video of Rose back to full screen. The video is paused at a terrible moment; Rose is in so much pain that her face is distorted beyond recognition.

Stella tears her eyes away from the screen and faces McNally. She’s dressed in a silk shirt that Stella’s lent her for this process, and she is shaking with either excitement or rage. Perhaps both. Paul Spector is, in all likelihood, Belfast’s first serial killer, and she just arrested him.

“There’s more video off of Spector’s phone,” McNally says. She sits next to Stella and tries to open a thin CD case that she’s brought with her, but she can’t quite get her hands around it. “Shit, let me just...”

Stella takes the CD case from her, opens it easily, and loads the disc on a desktop computer nearby. The video player pops up, and there Stella is, standing in the middle of her room at the Merchant, and there’s Jim, helping himself to her liquor.

Spector filmed them. Of course he did.

“You’ve seen this?” Stella asks quietly.

“I have, ma’am.”

“How long does it go on for?”

“Several minutes, ma’am,” McNally says, and swallows thickly.  “Seven total. It turns off after you and ACC Burns go into the bathroom.”

Stella leans forward and rests her elbows on her knees. “Jesus.”

“Can I ask you something, ma’am?” McNally’s voice is hushed and shaky. Stella doesn’t look at her; she’s too scared McNally will ask about her sexual history with Jim. And she’s invested too much in this officer to lose all respect for her now.

“Depends on what you want to ask.”

McNally takes a deep breath. “Have you told anyone about this? Reported it? His treatment of you over the past twenty-four hours constitutes sexual harassment, ma’am, not to mention...”

“Eastwood has my report,” Stella says gently. “It will match the video.”

“Good,” McNally mutters. And then, louder: “Good. This all needs to go right to DCC Gilepsie. Don’t even bother with Internal Affairs. Eastwood’s not a bad guy but he’s got no real power.”

Stella’s tempted to tell McNally to mind her own business; she can’t be positive that McNally isn’t using the situation to secure her own advancement.  But the air in the room is vibrating with Gail’s anger. Stella suspects that this is a lot more complicated than it seems. 

Stella glances up at the computer and then straightens in her chair. “You’re recommending I go straight to the Deputy Chief Constable? Tell me why.”

McNally doesn’t miss a beat. “Because Jim Burns needs to be fucking fired, and this footage might be the thing to do it.”

Stella’s stunned. She’s not surprised that McNally has an opinion, nor is she surprised that she’s articulated it tactlessly, but to express such disdain for a superior officer, and to _another_ superior officer, is unheard of for a DC.

“Gail,” Stella starts carefully, “has ACC Burns... hurt you in any way?”

“ _No._ God no. I shouldn’t have said anything. God, it’s probably....”

Stella’s lips tighten into a thin line. “Tell me.”

McNally pulls her chair in closer. She laces her fingers together, drops her hands in her lap, and searches Stella’s face for any sign of hesitation or mistrust. After several long seconds, she starts talking: “You asked me a few days ago if Burns was considering me for DS? Well, before I worked Central Belfast, I worked West Belfast. First in uniform, and then as a DC. I was partnered with this officer, Tom Anderson. About six months ago a DS position opened up, and we both had complete portfolios so we were both being considered. But it was my work that led to more successful arrests and convictions. So when he got the job, I went right to ACC Burns. I wanted to know why it wasn’t me. He told me that it would be irresponsible of him to promote an officer who did not know how to defer to authority.”

“He’s not... entirely wrong,” Stella says.

McNally sighs. “I know. But the thing is I worked with Tom Anderson for years. It was always the two of us pushing against the detective in charge. We had similar ways of thinking, Like... what if our initial assumptions were wrong? What if the profile we’d been using from the first was flawed? What if there’s a connection to something bigger that we hadn’t considered? And we weren’t afraid of saying what we thought. But when he did it, he was a bright young investigator and profiler.  When I did it, I needed to learn how to respect my superiors.”

Stella frowns. McNally’s story is too familiar; she experienced something similar when she was a DC. She only managed to make DS, and then DI, by learning that she had to abandon the smaller battles so she could fight the big ones.

“Would I be right in thinking you’re not the first woman in the PSNI to have this experience?” Stella asks, even though she already knows what the answer is.

“Yeah. But there’s more. With Anderson.”

Stella raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

McNally nods a few times and then continues. “So when Anderson made DS he arranged for ACC Burns to have me transferred out of West Belfast to Central Belfast. He said it was because there’d be more opportunities there for me, but that wasn’t the reason. Anderson had been trying to pull me since the moment we met, and it’d be easier for him to do that if I wasn’t working with him. So when I got to Central, he hinted pretty heavily that he’d make sure I’d advance quickly if I fucked him. I told him to go fuck himself and filed a sexual harassment complaint.”

“And the harassment complaint disappeared?”

“And the harassment complaint disappeared,” McNally echoes. “And there won’t be a DS position open here for some time.”

The two of them sit in silence for a few seconds, and Stella searches for something to say in encouragement. She could tell Gail about the Chief Superintendent who pursued her so aggressively that she had to transfer to Islington just to get away from him. And of course there are other stories: earlier ones, darker ones.  Those she would never tell Gail, just as she suspects that Gail would never tell Stella hers.

Stella shifts her eyes back to Rose’s face on the laptop. “We do this job so that male fantasies don’t determine the course of women’s lives. And it would be easier for us to do that if we weren’t trapped within male fantasies ourselves.”

Gail smiles slightly. “From your mouth to God’s ears,” she says.

Stella sighs, and the serious tenor of the conversation dissipates. When Stella looks away from Rose and turns back to McNally, she’s all business. “Are you ready to interview Spector?”

“Yes, ma’am,” McNally replies. “Start with the evidence. Ask him to account for the videos of Rose Stagg on his phone. Tell him that we’ve arrested Katie Benedetto, and that his wife facilitated his arrest. He probably won’t talk, but it’s as good a place to start as any.”

Stella nods in agreement. And then she grabs her bag, opens one of the inside pockets, and pulls out a tube of lipstick. It was something she had picked up a few weeks ago, not long after the lab results came back from Sarah Kay’s nail varnish. “This is for you to wear when you interview Spector. Read the label.”

McNally takes the lipstick from Stella and squints at it. “Lilith?”

Stella massages the back of her neck and moves her hair over her shoulder. “Mm. Before God made Eve from Adam’s rib, he made Lilith from the same Earth as he made Adam. She tells Adam she won’t be subservient to him, they argue, and she leaves Eden. And she doesn’t come back, not even when God damns her.”

McNally smiles: a big, toothy smile. “Do you have a mirror?”

“I do,” Stella says. She gets her pocket mirror from her bag and hands it to McNally. And she watches as McNally applies the lipstick and then noisily smacks her lips together when she’s done.

They both look in the pocket mirror to see how it’s come out. Stella smirks. It’s bright red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not adjusting the chapter count because I'm not sure exactly, but we're looking at I think 5 more chapters. Thanks to all of you who have stuck around for this long. 
> 
> Spot the Margaret Atwood reference in this chapter. :D


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interviewing process begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the point in the story where I am going put a trigger warning for **child sex abuse** , both discussion of it and description of it. And that tw covers everything from here on out (although I'll probably repeat it at the top of every chapter just in case). 
> 
> And content warning: menstruation.

When Stella and McNally emerge from the audio-visual suite, they almost run straight into Alice from Forensics.

“Sorry,” Alice says to Stella. “I couldn’t get your phone.”

Stella eyes Alice, or more accurately, looks ups at her; Alice is easily six inches taller than Stella. “Next time, just barge in. What’s new?”

Alice hands Stella a stack of papers. “We were able to salvage some mitochondrial blood samples from the scissors we pulled from the river. It’s a match for Joe Brawley’s blood.”

McNally beams at Alice, and then takes the papers from Stella. “We’ve got him, ma’am,” McNally gushes. “We’ve really got him!”

Stella disregards McNally and talks right to Alice. “Anything else?”

“We’re working on recovering files from the memory card Katie Benedetto tried to flush down the toilet,” Alice says. “There’s not a lot to recover, but Rick seems to think it could still be significant. Our audio-visual team has been working on new recordings of Spector’s voice from the arrest. They’re hoping to compare those with the known recording we have of the killer.”

Stella nods. “The killer provided information about all four attacks on that call. If we can prove Spector made that call, then we can arrest him for everything.”

Alice motions for McNally to give the files back to her, and McNally does, albeit grudgingly. “I’ll have these sent to you both,” Alice says, and she starts to walk away.

“Thank you, Alice,” Stella calls after her. “And Alice?” Alice turns around so quickly that she almost drops all the papers on the floor. “Find me right away if there’s anything new. Break down a bathroom stall if you need to.”

Alice nods and then hurries off in the other direction.

McNally and Stella continue walking towards the interviewing suite. McNally is moving quickly, and Stella keeps falling behind.  Finally, she just stops and waits for McNally to notice that Stella’s no longer next to her.

It takes almost a full minute for McNally to stop, turn around, and walk back to Stella.

“Take a breath,” Stella says.

McNally breathes in deeply, and then out again. Stella makes a circular gesture to prompt McNally to do it again. A few seconds later, McNally has calmed down.

“I need you to listen very carefully,” Stella starts. “The new evidence changes things. You can arrest Spector for the murder of Joe Brawley and the attempted murder of Annie Brawley. And you will. But not right away. You’ll ask about Rose first. And if you’re not getting anywhere with that, then you can officially arrest him for these further crimes. That will increase the pressure. But getting information about Rose is our absolute priority. We don’t need him to confess to anything else just yet. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Get set up in the interview room. I’ll be monitoring.”

Stella leaves McNally at the door of Interview Room S63, and she goes to find the corresponding monitoring area. She takes a wrong turn, and she finds herself in a hallway of mostly unmarked doors.

She walks into one—a few showers. It must be for detectives conducting all night interviews. She walks into another door—a small public bathroom. The monitoring suites for Spector’s interview room must be in a different area entirely. She steps out of the bathroom and starts dialling McNally’s mobile when she sees Dani Ferrington at the end of the hall. Dani, who is dressed in a standard issue gym bathrobe and is wearing rubber gloves, is accompanied by a female Forensic tech. They’re walking towards the bathroom that Stella just left.

Dani acknowledges Stella with a quick nod. “Hi, ma’am.”

“Dani,” Stella says. “It’s good that you’re here. I appear to be lost.”

Dani smiles tightly and inclines her head toward the bathroom door. “Sorry, ma’am, but I need to...”

“Oh.  Of course.”

The Forensics tech hands Dani a sealed plastic bag, and Stella suddenly understands the situation: Dani needs to send her clothes to Forensics, and she needs some privacy to change her undergarments.

Stella considers asking the tech for directions, but she realizes that this might be her only chance to talk to Dani during this process. So she ducks into the bathroom and hope the tech doesn’t think anything of it.

Stella leans back against one of the sinks and clicks her shoes against the tiled floor so Dani knows she’s there.

“You did a really great job out there,” Stella says. “You should be very proud of yourself.”

There’s some shuffling from the center stall. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“I want you to know that I will be recommending you for a commendation. I’m unsure if it will be approved, but in my opinion, you deserve one.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Dani mutters, and Stella crosses her arms and frowns. That wasn’t the reaction she was expecting.

“Dani?”

“Um... “

“What is it, Dani?”

There’s a heavy sigh on the other side of the stall door. “Do you have a tampon?”

“Oh,” Stella replies softly. “Of course. Just a moment.”

Stella’s bag is at her feet, and she reaches for it, opens up the inside pocket, and pulls out a tampon from her emergency stash.

“This is what I have,” she says, kneeling to the floor to pass the tampon under the stall door.

“Thank you.” Dani takes the tampon, and Stella looks away when she hears the wrapper tear.

Dani comes out of the stall a few minutes later; her robe is tied tightly around her waist, and her rubber gloves are bloodstained. The sealed plastic bag is tucked under her arm. Stella move away from the sink as Dani goes to wash.

“Talk about bad timing,” Dani says under her breath, as she drops the bag on the floor and then rinses and disposes of her rubber gloves. She’s blushing furiously, but her movements are steady and precise as she washes her hands.

“I also have some Paracetemol, if you need,” Stella offers.

“I’m all right. I’m just...” Dani trails off. She’s fixated on her own reflection in the mirror, and when she finally turns to Stella, her eyes are distant.

“Just what?” Stella prompts gently.

Dani turns away and watches the water in the sink get sucked into the drain. She’s still looking for traces of blood even though all of it has been washed away. “It feels like a dirty protest, you know?”

Stella’s brow furrows in confusion. “How do you mean?”

“You know about the women in the Armagh prisons, yeah? Back in the eighties?”

It rings a bell immediately, but it takes Stella a few moments to recover the details. Her education about the conflict in Northern Ireland spent little time discussing women, so it’s not surprising that this particular moment in history has fallen through the cracks. But Stella remembers: in 1980, the IRA prisoners protested their poor treatment by the guards and the British government by refusing to leave their cells. They couldn’t empty their chamber pots, so they lived in their own filth and smeared their excrement on the walls. The women in the Armagh prison joined them, and naturally their protest introduced a whole new set of problems.

“The dirty protests,” Stella says, and she feels like a schoolgirl who hasn’t done her homework. “The women prisoners smeared their menstrual blood on the walls of their cells.”

Dani nods, and then goes to dry her hands at the automatic drier.  Stella can only just hear her over the whine of the machine. “My mum used to talk about those women all the time. It was embarrassing.  Like when my period got really bad, she used to say, _remember the dirty protests, Dani_. I don’t know, it’s just something I thought of.”

Dani’s lips quirk up slightly, and she bows her head.  In remembrance, perhaps. But after a moment she snaps to attention, and she looks at Stella with big, frightened eyes.

“Sorry, ma’am,” she says. “That was stupid. I should let you get on with it.”

Stella’s momentarily stunned. She can’t bring herself to reply to Dani, and Dani’s taking her silence as a cue to leave. “Dani, wait.”

Dani turns around and lingers near the bathroom door. Stella opens her mouth and hopes she will stumble on just the right thing to say. She can guess that Dani’s lost her mother in some way, and that someone in Dani’s life had a connection to the IRA. That she’d have reason to resent a British person swooping in and taking control.

It’s a miracle, then, that Dani trusted Stella at all.

”You’ve been invaluable to this investigation, Dani, and to me,” Stella says. “Thank you.”

“I...I  just want to be useful, ma’am,” Dani sputters, and then she slips through the bathroom door before Stella can stop her.

Once Dani’s gone, Stella paces in front of the sinks. She should wash. Her hands smell of ink and latex, and she knows there are visible sweat stains in the armpits of her blouse.

She starts to turn the sink on, but then she stops. _A dirty protest,_ she thinks. She wipes her sweaty forehead on her sleeve and marches out.

* * *

She has the Forensics tech lead her to the correct monitoring suite, and she finds that all of the equipment is already on. McNally is sitting across from Spector. There are small cameras perched at ever corner of the room, and DC Larkin is sitting by the door.

Stella smiles slightly as she puts on her headset. She’s left Paul Spector in a room with two brunettes who have power over him, but there’s nothing he can do to hurt them.

McNally’s all made up; the Lilith lipstick is a bright spot in the drab interrogation room. Her silk shirt, the one that Stella lent her, has two buttons open at the top. McNally’s wearing Stella’s heels as well, the four inch ones, and her ankles are crossed demurely.

Spector is leaning back in chair. The chair’s tipped far back enough that it might topple at any moment, but Spector uses his body to keep it perfectly balanced.  He ducks his head down to see McNally’s legs under the table, and then he smirks at her.  Then he leans forward and the front two legs of the chair hit the floor with a soft thud.

Stella stops smiling.

If Spector’s leering has bothered her, McNally doesn’t let it show. A light turns on behind her. “That light you just saw indicates that this interview is now being monitored,” McNally recites. “At this juncture, Mr. Spector, I will remind you that you have a legal right to a solicitor.”

Spector shakes his head and scoffs.

“All right,” McNally says. “The first thing I am going to ask you is a simple matter of fact. I need you to account for the presence of video files on your phone, the phone we found in your possession at the time of your arrest. The video files feature the image of Rose Stagg and the sound of her voice, as well as the image of you and the sound of your voice. What is your explanation for these files being found on your phone?”

Spector says nothing, as expected. Stella feels her eyelids start to droop. It feels like forever since she’s slept.

McNally’s voice rouses her. “It’s twelve minutes of video. Rose appears to be tied to a chair. She begs for water, and then she begs for her captor to let her go. How did this footage come to be on your phone?” 

Spector smiles.

Larkin walks over to the interviewing table and places a folder in front of McNally. In it are high quality printouts of screenshots from the video. McNally opens the file and turns it toward Spector so he can see the pictures.

“I need you to listen to me very carefully,” McNally says. Her tone is even and gentle; none of her righteous indignation shows through. Stella’s impressed.  “This interview is being entered into the record. If this goes to trial, the court can make the proper inference if you refuse to or fail to answer the question. How do you explain the video files of Rose Stagg that were found on your phone?”

Paul uses his lower body to move his chair backwards. Then he places one leg on the desk. His foot lands on a picture of Rose.

McNally grimaces. And then she takes a moment, lowers her head, gets herself together. When she addresses Paul again, her eyes are sparkling.

“This could all blow up really fast, Paul.” McNally’s voice is breathy and pitched high. It makes her sound much younger than she is.  “Your wife brought you right to us, and she’s given us a lot of information. We have Katie Benedetto in custody. Your home is being searched. The hotel room you were staying at is being searched. So, that being said, I’ll ask again.  Can you account for the video files of Rose Stagg found on your phone?”

The abrupt change in tactics elicits a response from Spector: his face breaks into a huge grin. And he speaks.

“I’m on a beach,” he starts. “It’s a cold day. Daddy says I’m not allowed to swim because the water’s too cold, but I tell him I don’t care. I reach into his knapsack to get my swimsuit, but it’s not there. I need to get in the water because something’s out there, maybe someone. Maybe someone’s drowning. I take off my clothes and run into the water, and Daddy runs after me. The water’s so cold. Daddy scoops me up and presses me into his warm shirt. I cry against his shoulder as he carries me back to shore.”

Stella’s hands are clenched into tight fists. She presses each nail into her palm, hard enough to make it leave a mark. Fuck the short nails. As she does this, she counts: one pain, two pain, three pain, four pain, five pain. First the right hand, then the left. And then she looks at the monitor.

The blood has risen in McNally’s cheeks, but her ankles are still crossed under the table and she’s still sitting up straight in her chair. She’s recognized the excerpt from Stella’s diary, of course, but she doesn’t let it interfere with her questioning. “Again, I’m asking you to account for the presence of video files on your phone featuring the image of Rose Stagg and the sound of her voice,” McNally says.

Spector shifts in his chair and then puts his other foot up on the table.

 _Fuck him_ , Stella thinks. _Fuck him._ She lets it become a mantra in her head— _fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him fuck him FUCK him fuck him fuck him—_ because she knows where her mind will go if she doesn’t distract it. And she can’t let it go there, she _can’t,_ because it will take so much of her energy just to get herself back again. And that’s not energy she can spare.

Spector and McNally sit for another hour, but it feels like more. Every five minutes or so, McNally asks him to account for the videos of Rose, and he says nothing. Eventually DC Larkin gets up and declares the interview has ended and they will pick up again after Spector has had the requisite uninterrupted amount of rest.

“The monitoring light is still on,” Spector says. He points up at the green light. McNally doesn’t answer him, so he finds a camera and addresses it directly. “That was a weak play, Stella. I hope you liked my counter. I can have as much fun as I like with your officers, but I think we’d best be doing this face to face.  Just me and you.  Stella.”

Spector leans back and folds his arms across his chest.  He thinks that he’s had the last word, and that he’s just going to wait for the prison guard to pick him up.

But McNally’s not done with him. “Paul Spector, in light of new evidence we’ve received over the last two hours, I am further arresting you for the murder of Joe Brawley and the attempted murder of Anne Brawley. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence,”

And with that, one of the guards comes to take Spector back to his holding cell.

McNally looks up at a different camera. She bends down and removes both of Stella’s shoes, places them near the door. _I’m so sorry_ , she mouths at the camera, and then she leaves the interrogation room in only her stocking feet.

* * *

Stella takes a minute or two to recover after Spector’s interview. She concentrates on her breath: a deep inhale though her nose, hold it for ten seconds, and then a long hiss out her mouth. Her hands are now still. She opens her notebook and makes a list:

_FOR KATIE BENEDETTO:_

_ADULT PRESENT_

_NO CRIME SCENE PHOTOS_

_ALL DESCRIPTIONS OF CRIME SCENE VETTED_

_AS GRAPHIC AS WE CAN GET W/OUT GETTING INTO TROUBLE_

It’s the outline of strategy, albeit a very unfocused one. But it’s enough. Stella snaps the notebook closed and leaves the monitoring area. With any luck, her team will have gotten somewhere evaluating the rest of the video evidence.

When she gets to the A/V suite, she sees Rick, Martin, and Eastwood huddled around a computer.

“What’s new?” she asks.

Rick pauses the video, and they all move aside so she can see the screen. On it, there’s Paul Spector—naked and masturbating for whoever’s on the other end of the camera.

All three men are looking up at her, waiting for her reaction. She becomes hyperaware of her body, how the men with her will be looking for signs of discomfort, or worse, arousal. She relaxes every part of her until she is sure she has given them nothing to misinterpret. Only then does she speak.

“Where did you find this?”

There’s a long silence. Finally, Rick answers her. “Katie Benedetto’s phone, ma’am. She recorded a Skype call. But there’s more. The hotel Spector was staying at was illegally videotaping its patrons. We were able to obtain footage from his room, and it looks like they weren’t sleeping together. In this video, he mocks her for being a virgin, assaults her, ties her up, and then leaves her to set herself free.”

 _Assaults her_. “Can I see the footage?” Stella asks sharply.

Rick opens up a minimized window and lets the video play. Stella watches as Spector strangles Katie, climbs on top of her top of her, verbally abuses her, teases her, and then ties her up. And then she watches Katie get free. It’s clear to her that Katie wants to have sex with Spector, and that she does have the fantasies that Spector describes. Perhaps by invoking those fantasies, Stella can help Katie realize that Spector is exploiting her burgeoning sexuality for his own gain.

When the video finishes, Stella looks over her shoulder at Martin. “You should sit down with Katie first.”

Martin smirks. “Yes, ma’am.”

Stella ignores Martin’s smugness and turns back to the video. “Rick? You had mentioned that you had recovered a diary.”

Rick nods. “Still in evidence, ma’am, but we have pictures.”

He brings up the files, and Stella experiences a sickening wave of déjà vu.  She can’t do anything but let it pass, and once it does, the comparison feels silly. Katie’s diary is nothing like Stella’s. Katie’s written everything in an overly-embellished script, and she’s doodled hearts and stars in the margins. Nothing wrong with that, some of most talented investigators Stella’s worked with are also compulsive doodlers, but everything about Katie’s diary feels self-conscious and constructed.

Especially the lurid descriptions of sex acts.

Stella sighs. “Martin, Hagstrom said that Katie resisted arrest?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Stella clicks through to the most recent entry in Katie’s diary, MONDAY MAY 7TH ♥ and lets the mouse linger on a stray sketch of a woman’s face. It’s different than the other cartoonish marginalia: the woman has sharp features, but her eyes are big and empty.

The woman looks like Stella.

“Martin, I need you to scare Katie Benedetto a bit. Not too much, obviously, but grill her on the facts in the diary. Word by word if you need to. Pull some grisly details from the crime scenes. Make sure she knows what Spector’s capable of before she doubles down on perjuring herself.”

Martin makes an effort to catch her eye, and Stella offers him a wan smile. “So spook her out of her infatuation?” he asks.

“As best you can,” Stella says carefully. “Get what you need from Hagstrom and then let me know when you’re ready. Rick, edit the video so we only show her the escape.”

Martin and Rick go, leaving Stella alone with Eastwood. He shoves his hands in his pockets; Stella would ask him to apologize for his poor handling of the arrest, but there’s just too much to do now to really dwell on it. She turns her attention back the screen and clicks through to the end of Katie’s diary.

“Did you get anything from Spector?” Eastwood asks.

Stella stares at the last page of Katie’s diary. It’s blank. “No,” she says. “Nothing.”

* * *

Ten minutes later, Stella receives a text from Martin confirming that an approved adult has arrived for Katie and that she’s ready for an interview. Stella texts back that she’ll meet him outside Katie’s interview room as soon as she picks up her notes on Katie from the bullpen.

When she gets there, she sees that there is someone in her office.  She can’t make out who it is, so she shouts from her place at the center of the bullpen.

“Hello? Is there something you need?”

A small Asian woman steps out of Stella’s office. 5’ 3”, early to mid-thirties, hair in a French braid and dressed casually in a blazer and jeans. A professional, clearly, but not a police officer. “Superintendent Gibson? I’m Dr. Karen Lo. I’m the child psychologist assigned to the Spector children. We spoke on the phone?”

A Belfast accent. This isn’t the person Stella expected from their short phone conversation; Tanya is the only non-white person she’s met since she’s arrived here. Stella extends her hand. “Nice to meet you. I apologize for not being in touch.”

Dr. Lo’s handshake is firm. “Lots of evidence collecting. Don’t worry, I’m used to it. I’m sorry for just showing up like this but I’m afraid it’s a matter of some urgency.”

Stella remembers Olivia’s cries for her father in the patrol car, and she nods gravely at Dr. Lo. “Please have a seat.”

Dr. Lo sits down in the chair opposite Stella’s desk. She sits at the very edge of her chair and leans in. “As you know, Forensics needs to take clothing from everyone involved in a crime scene. Considering the circumstances of Spector’s arrest, we needed to take Olivia Spector’s clothes as evidence. Now, my team is very well trained in handling this situation with children, and we usually have no problem getting Forensics what they need. But we’ve been with Olivia Spector for two hours now. Sally Ann’s spoken with her, all of our doctors have worked with her, and we’ve done everything we can to make her comfortable. And she’s still refusing to undress. At one point, she told us she was waiting for her father to arrive to undress.”

Stella lays her hands flat on the surface of her desk. Her fingernails are damp; she must have been chewing her nails during Dr. Lo’s briefing.  She knows what she needs to ask now, but for some reason the words aren’t materializing.

Dr. Lo steps in and provides them for her. “My team is recommending that we open a child sex abuse inquiry. With your approval, we’ll contact the child sex abuse unit, and they will do all the questioning.”

Stella takes this all in. She’s not surprised. She’s just so, _so_ tired.

“You have my approval,” Stella says. “Let me know how it progresses. Obviously we’re questioning Spector, so I’ll inform you if he says anything of interest regarding Olivia.”

Dr. Lo gets up. “Thank you, Detective Superintendent.  We’ll be in touch.”

And then Dr. Lo extends her hand for another shake. Stella hesitates, unsure of why the gesture is harder than it was two minutes ago. She shakes Dr. Lo’s hand, but then immediately folds her arms up. Her body wants to shrink away from any more contact, and she lets it.

Once Dr. Lo has left, Stella lies down on her cot, just for a moment. She imagines that she’s at the bottom of a stream, and the water is flowing over her at a steady pace. It’s shallow enough for her to break through the surface, but she doesn’t. She just lies beneath the water and holds her breath, knowing that at any moment she can stop herself from drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The history of women in the Troubles is so complicated on both the Republican and Unionist sides! Please consult a library or an internet search engine near you. 
> 
> Also I said four more chapters and I might be lying. It might be five. Depends on some things. We'll see. Don't take what I say seriously ever.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team sits down with Katie Benedetto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of my notes are at the end for this one. 
> 
> Triggers: Child sex abuse, sexual assault, suicide. Incest mention.
> 
> Some sexual content.

Stella’s eyes snap open; she’s not sure where she is. Concrete walls, metal file cabinet... right. Cot in her office. She fumbles for her digital clock before realizing that she has a watch on. It’s five after six. She dozed off for about ten minutes.

She immediately snatches her phone from her bag and checks her messages. The first thing she sees is a voicemail from Tanya. She knows she shouldn’t be prioritizing this call, but she can’t help herself.

“Hey, it’s me. I wanted to apologize for talking to you the way I did in bathroom. I’ve learned a few more of the details surrounding the arrest and you weren’t wrong. You guys did pretty badly. But I didn’t need to take that out on you. I just miss her a lot, Stella. And I don’t think I’ll get the luxury of _not_ missing her ever again.“

Stella swallows hard; she shouldn’t have listened to this message. She can’t have this clouding her judgment. She moves to hang up the phone when Tanya’s voice continues. “And... we told each other everything. I would have told her about what’s happened between us. She gave great advice, you should know that about her. I keep wondering what she’d tell me to do next because I like you, Stella, but I don’t know where to go from here.”

Stella dials Tanya’s number as soon as the message ends. It goes to voicemail after a few rings, and she brings her phone a bit closer to her face to talk. “What do you think Rose would say?” she asks roughly. “No, what will she say when you do tell her, after we find her? Because I haven’t lost hope yet. Next time I call, I’ll have news.”

She hangs up so forcefully that the button on her phone leaves an imprint on her finger.

There’s also a missed call from DC Martin.  He is probably ready to interview Katie Benedetto, but he needs her to monitor. Stella wipes some crusted mascara away from her eyes, shoves all of her notes on Katie in her bag, and switches the lights off in her office.

There is a limit, she thinks as she walks to the interviewing suite, to how harsh they can be to Katie Benedetto. The juvenile supervisor knows that there is a line, and he or she will make sure that Martin doesn’t cross it. But that doesn’t mean they need to be gentle, quite the opposite. Katie’s stubbornness will likely present them with a brick wall, and she’ll need Martin to dismantle it. It will take time, but it will get them information about Spector that they desperately need.

“Stella!”

Someone’s calling her from down the hall. Stella rotates on the spot, her heels scraping the linoleum floor. “Yes?”

It’s Sally Ann Spector. She looks exhausted, and she’s spilled what appears to be juice on white tee shirt. “Finally. I’ve been asking for you for hours,” she says. “No one would tell me where you were. I have questions about what’s happening, about what’s happening _to my daughter_ , and no one’s being straight with me. _Again.”_

Stella stifles an impatient sigh and motions for Sally Ann to walk with her. She leads them to an empty break room and has them sit down at a small table near the coffeemaker. Her phone starts ringing, probably Martin, and as she reaches for it, Sally Ann flashes her a look of confusion and dismay. Apparently, it hasn’t occurred to Sally Ann that Stella might have somewhere else to be.

Stella makes the conversation with Martin as quick as possible. She’s held up, have Eastwood monitor until she can get there.

“And Martin,” she finishes, “be prepared to spend some time in there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Martin says, and hangs up.

Stella then turns to Sally Ann. “All right, then. What are your questions?”

Sally Ann stares blankly at Stella. She seems to have forgotten what she was going to ask. Stella has no time for this, and she almost tells Sally Ann as much before Sally Ann finally, _finally_ speaks.

“Why can’t I be in the room when the police talk to her?”

Stella bites her lip in order to stop herself from making an exasperated noise. She’s sure the team working with Sally Ann and Olivia has already explained this. “Children are sometimes unwilling to tell the truth when there is a parent in the room. They may fear consequences, or they may be embarrassed, or they may pick up your reactions to their answers and then shut down.”

Sally Ann looks at the floor and nods. “Okay. Then why won’t they tell me what they’re asking her?”

“Because interviewing a child is much different from interviewing an adult.  Adults are asked to account for specifics, but children are asked very general and open-ended questions. In some instances, they start with a few games designed to evaluate a child’s development and assess his or her feelings. We’re just looking for some insight into Olivia’s relationship with Paul so we can determine if she’s witnessed anything significant.”

Stella offers Sally Ann a tight smile. She’s not lying to Sally Ann outright, but she is obscuring the truth a bit. Sally Ann doesn’t need to know about the sex abuse inquiry, at least not until they have some more evidence to support it.

“Okay,” Sally Ann says again. “But why are they so focused on Olivia? They had a whole production around her. But with Liam they don’t seem to bother much at all.”

“Liam’s younger,” Stella says immediately, in the hopes that Sally Ann will accept it as a legitimate explanation. “Olivia is more likely to have information we can use.  And when Paul tried to escape us, she was the one he took with him.”

“Yeah,” Sally Ann whispers. “Cause she’s a girl. She’s _his_ girl.”

Stella blanches; Sally Ann is much more aware than Stella gave her credit for. It’s surprising, but more than that it’s inexplicably and profoundly sad. Stella feels her eyes start to prickle with tears. She blinks rapidly to dispel them, and by the time Sally Ann asks her next question, she’s as dry-eyed as she was at the start of their conversation.

“Do they think he... hurt her? Touched her? Is that what they’re asking her?”

Stella breathes in, and then she chooses her words very carefully. “As I said, the team just wants to find out about the nature of Olivia’s relationship with Paul. If they feel there are indicators of emotional or sexual abuse, then they will pursue that line of inquiry.”

A few tears slide down Sally Ann’s cheeks. She curses softly and wipes them up, but they fall faster than Sally Ann can control them. “I was with this man for ten years. How... how _the fuck_ did I not know? How did I not see?”

“Paul took pains to make sure you didn’t see,” Stella answers, but it comes out muted and not at all convincing.

Sally Ann stands up and hoists her bag over her shoulder. “I have one fucking job as a mum, and that’s to protect my kids,” she rasps. The tears are now flowing freely, “And I let them live under the same roof as, what do you think he is, a fucking _serial killer_ , for their entire lives. And I don’t know what they’ve been through.  I let them face that danger alone. And now they may never recover from that.”

Stella stares up at Sally Ann. “There’s little to be gained in blaming yourself.”

Sally Ann crosses her arms over her chest. “Are you a mum, then?”

Stella just shakes her head.

“Then you have no _fucking_ clue,” Sally Ann cries. And then she storms out.

Stella looks at the empty chair that Sally Ann’s just left. _You don’t know either_ , she thinks. _You don’t._

Stella has to come back to herself; she can’t afford to miss any more of Katie’s interview. She sits very still in her chair for ten seconds, not a moment longer. And when she leaves the room, she doesn’t look back.

* * *

She arrives in the monitoring suite in a rush, and Eastwood greets her with a look of concern. _Sally Ann_ , she mouths at him, and when he rolls his eyes a bit, she shoots him a nasty look. She doesn’t have time for this. When he offers her a pair of headphones, she takes them.

Katie is midsentence. “...played it to him one night in his study. That was the first time that we kissed. It was a gentle kiss at first, just lips touching softly, but then it became more passionate. Sally Ann was downstairs so we had to be careful, but he opened my shirt. Kissed my breasts. Licked and sucked my nipples. I put the hand on the outside of his trousers. He was getting hard. And that was as far as it went the first time.”

Martin drums his fingers lightly against the table. “And this was when you fourteen?”

“Yes.”

“You do know that Paul can go to prison for what you’ve just told me?”

Katie’s lips quirk up. “You wouldn’t understand. We love each other.”

Stella scrubs a hand across her face Martin doesn’t seem... _unaffected_ by Katie’s erotic little story. That won’t bode well for them. She watches him as he draws a small circle and begins describing the effects of the ligature wounds on Fiona Gallagher’s neck. Stella thinks, briefly, of Tanya. How difficult it must have been to perform that autopsy.

Stella lets herself feel the slight quicken in her heartbeat at the thought of Tanya, and then she refocuses by glancing over at Eastwood. She’s looking for his read on the situation, but instead she notices a thin folder sitting on the table in front of him. It’s labelled KATIE BENEDETTO, but it’s unfamiliar to her.

She leans into Eastwood’s space and takes the folder. “What’s this?”

“Oh, just some research from DC McNally. Back from when she and Martin did their first interview with Katie.”

Eastwood doesn’t so much as look at Stella, so he’s clearly not bothered with it. He moves his chair closer to the screen and leans in.  In fact, Stella’s convinced that if he leans any closer to that screen, he’ll fall right in.

“Why did you break into the Spector home?” Martin asks.

“I wanted to feel close to him,” Katie responds. There’s a soft note in her voice that makes it sound sincere.

“And what were you burning in Spector’s hotel room?”

Katie looks at the table and shrugs, and Stella’s suddenly aware of how small she is across from the towering DC Martin. “Just things,” she says. “I burn things sometimes. It’s just something I do. I’ve never hurt myself or anyone else doing it, so I don’t seem the harm.”

She’s lying, but at the same time she’s not. Stella knows she was destroying evidence for Spector, but her admitting to sometimes burning things seems truthful.

“Did Paul Spector ask you to destroy evidence?” Martin asks.

Katie smiles sweetly. “Evidence of what?”

This is getting hard to listen to. Stella removes her headphones and opens McNally’s file on Katie.

In it is a police report from July 2009. It’s not an arrest report, just an incident report. She doesn’t recognize the name of the PC, but it’s PC Tara Morrison, so she can guess the gender. The report recounts the officer looking for a thirteen year-old girl, Katrina Benedetto, who was unaccounted for on the night of her father’s death. She was eventually found outside a club five blocks away from the accident, severely intoxicated and waiting for her father to pick her up.

 _Katrina was violently shaking and vomiting from the alcohol,_ the report reads. _At one point, she leaned up against the officer in question and asked if drinking is supposed to make you believe things that are unbelievable. The officer could not convince her that the accident was real, as Katrina was insisting that he could not be hurt. He was just coming to pick her up. It took significant effort to get her into the police car and to the station where she could meet her mother._

Stella slaps the folder down on the table. It’s enough to get Eastwood’s attention. “We’ve been going about this all wrong,” she says.

Eastwood squints at her. “How do you mean?”

“Intimidation isn’t gong to work. A male officer isn’t going to work. We need to get Martin out of there.”

Eastwood gestures lamely at the screen. “This isn’t an easy conversation to interrupt.”

“Tell them we didn’t have a qualified female interviewer available, and now we do,” Stella says. She crosses her arms and tucks her chin into her chest. It’s been a long time since she was so off the mark about someone in the interview room before. And a woman, at that. No, not a woman. A girl.

“Who’s our female interviewer?” Eastwood asks.

“Me,” Stella says.

Eastwood considers her for a moment, and then he nods and goes to stop the interview.

They can’t keep Katie detained long, so Stella knows she has to be in there right after Martin leaves. There is no time to strategize, but Stella knows where she wants to start, and she’s done this long enough that she’ll just go from there.

As soon as she sees Martin and Eastwood leave the interview room, she goes to meet them. She finds them both pacing at the end of the hallway.

Stella holds out her hands to receive the materials that Martin is holding. He doesn’t give them to her. “Was that really necessary?” he hisses.

Stella averts her eyes and suppresses a sigh. Now she’ll have to spend fifteen minutes negotiating another male ego.

“Was what really necessary?” she asks.

“You said you wanted _me_ to do the interview,” he starts. He takes a step closer to her. “You just said that I should be prepared to be in there for a while. And now, what? I’m not good enough to interview her? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you were doing well in there. I’m trying a different approach,” Stella says.

Martin’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “Just out of nowhere?”

Stella sighs audibly, so he knows that she’s exasperated. “It’s a little bad cop, good cop. Simplest trick in the book. Now, if you could just get out of my way, I need to get set up in there. We can only keep Katie Benedetto for another...”

“ _You’re_ doing the interview? Oh, you’re the good cop, then?” Martin spits out. Eastwood tries to catch Martin’s eye, but Martin’s fixated on Stella. Stella sees a wave of desire pass through his expression before it returns to anger.  Stella holds his stare for five seconds. Ten.

“DC Martin,” she says evenly, “need I remind you that I am your superior officer and it is not your place to question me. You know what I’ve asked. So please. Get out of my way.”

Martin huffs a laugh; it’s a mirthless, hollow sound. “Due respect, ma’am, but this investigation let Paul Spector take a shit all over us as we watched from the control room. We could have had him in custody days ago. And everyone’s just watched as you passed on important work to barely competent officers... we all _know_ McNally bungled the interview with Sally Ann. So no one has any idea how she ended up as the arresting officer. Except that you wanted it that way, so that’s how it had to happen! And no one’s had the guts to come forward and say you’re doing a shit job.”

“Glen, you’re out of line,” Eastwood says under his breath.

“No, sir, I’m really not,” he tells Eastwood. He’s gaining momentum now. “I answer to the same superior officers I’ve answered to the whole time I’ve been here. You, Burns, Brink, McElroy, Devin, Stanford. I won’t have Maggie fucking Thatcher coming in here and telling _me_ what to do.”

Martin blows past her, deliberately crashing his shoulder against hers as he goes. She’s eager to follow him, if only to obliterate his arguments, but then she remembers that Katie is waiting in the interview room. And quite frankly, some of his points don’t even deserve a response.

Maggie Thatcher. Stella hums to herself. She’s not sure she’s heard that one before. But then again, perhaps the comparison is an apt one, especially for an Irish person. She wonders how many of her colleagues have thought of it.

Eastwood shuffles towards her. He looks chastened: he’s almost afraid to meet her eyes. “I honestly didn’t expect that from him.”

Stella nods. “I don’t care. Just deal with it.”

She doesn’t watch Eastwood walk away, but she does listen to it. Eastwood walks deliberately, with a steady rhythm. She lets it anchor her as she stands in front of the interview room door, and opens it.

* * *

When Stella enters the room, Katie uncrosses her legs, leans forward in her chair, and smirks.

“I know you,” she says.

Stella pretends she didn’t hear her. “Hello, Katie. I’m Detective Superintendent Stella Gibson, and I’ll be continuing the interview from where Detective Constable Martin left off.”

“Paul’s told me all about you,” Katie sing-songs. “We read about you. In the papers. In your diary.”

Katie pauses here, waiting for Stella’s reaction. Stella won’t indulge her. She just smiles gently and inclines her head.

So Katie pushes harder. “The papers said you fucked that guy. And maybe you did, but according to your diary you’re a huge fucking dyke.”

Stella doesn’t respond, and she doesn’t show Katie how little patience she has for this false bravado. She just lets her eyes search Katie’s face until Katie begins to lean back in her chair.

“I wanted to apologize to you, Katie,” Stella starts. “I had coached DC Martin on what to ask you, but I had never intended for him to bully you. So I’m sorry. I was hoping we could start over and put together a clear picture of what happened here. How does that sound?”

Katie crosses her arms. “Don’t talk down to me. I know what you’re doing.”

Stella continues as if Katie hadn’t said anything. “DC Martin was asking you about when you started babysitting for the Spectors, but I want to go back a little further than that. Katie, can you tell me about events of July 14, 2009?”

Katie’s gaze becomes hard and narrow. “Why the hell does that matter?”

Stella leans in and folds her hands primly across the interview table. All of the folders with evidence and supporting documents are closed, so Stella doesn’t have anywhere to hide. But neither does Katie.

“We did a search for you in our records after Sally Ann Spector gave us your name. No arrests, but there was an incident report from that date. Just about a year before you began working with the Spectors.”

“That’s got _nothing_ to do with Paul.”

“I just want to be thorough. I understand it’s a sensitive topic. Your father died that night,” Stella says. She meters out her voice carefully. She wants to sound gentle, almost tender.

But Katie’s response is biting. “What, so you think this thing with Paul is some kind of Electra complex? That I wanted to fuck my dad? That’s really disgusting. ”

“I don’t think that’s what I said.”

“It’s what you meant.”

A tense silence settles between them.

Stella knows she has to break it, so she does. “Katie, I’m asking because according to our police report, your father was on his way to pick you up when he got into the accident. And you had been drinking, heavily it seems. One of our officers found you outside a club.”

“You going to arrest me for that, then?”

“Of course not,” Stella says. She leans in and stares at Katie, silently asking her to make eye contact. Katie won’t. “But I do want to know if Paul Spector ever spoke to you about this incident. Perhaps implied that you were responsible for your father’s death.”

Katie’s hands clench into fists. “Paul would never do that.”

“Maybe not. I don’t know. As you said to Martin, we don’t seem to understand your relationship with him. But I think you’ll find that we have more information about your various communications with Spector than you know.”

Katie licks her lips. She makes a low humming noise at the back of her throat, and when she speaks, she makes her voice artificially husky. “I know you’ve been through my phone. And yeah, I recorded that video.”

Stella reaches for the iPad that she’s stashed under some of the folders. “Katie, I’m afraid that’s not what I’m talking about.”

She turns on the device, and she selects one of the files that Rick has put on the device for the interview. She turns the device so Katie can see it, and then she hits play. There, on the screen, is Katie, reclining on Spector’s hotel bed, wearing a white button down shirt and reading a copy of the Divine Comedy.

“Where the fuck did you get that?” Katie asks.

“It appears that the manager of your hotel has been illegally spying on his guests for some time,” Stella says coolly. “Katie, you said something interesting during this encounter, when Spector assaulted you. You instructed him to kill you.”

“I was having one on,” she snaps.

Stella sets the iPad aside so there is nothing between them. “Katie, you went to his hotel dressed in the style of the victims. You said that you couldn’t leave him alone because of all you knew about him. Why would you do that, if you didn’t at least suspect he was the killer?”

“I was fucking with his head!” she shouts. Behind her, the juvenile monitoring officer flinches.

“He had his hand around your neck, and you were joking with him?”

Katie doesn’t say anything. She just huffs and glares at Stella.

Stella straightens her back and squares her shoulders. She relaxes her hands on the table and curls them slightly, so Katie can see her palms. Katie’s hands are still in fists. “Katie, I’m going to ask you something that I want you to answer honestly.”

“I have been answering honestly.”

Stella presses her lips together and waits. Eventually, Katie inclines her head, and Stella takes that to be a nod.

“Katie...have you been having suicidal thoughts?”

Katie’s face goes absolutely blank. Stella recognizes that reaction: panic.

When Stella continues, she speaks slowly. “Even if you never really suspected Paul to be the killer, you knew he was dangerous on some level. You told Sally Ann he attacked you. She’s not sure she believes you, but I want you to know that I do. And after that you kept finding  ways to incite him to hurt you. Even if it was subconscious... I think you knew there was only one way this could end, Katie. That eventually he was going to kill you, or at least hurt you beyond repair. Is that what you wanted?”

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” Katie rasps. But Stella knows a crack in an interviewee when she sees one.

Stella opens one of the folders. In it is Martin’s circle that is meant to represent Fiona Gallagher’s neck. She lays it out in front of Katie.

“Compressed to nine inches,” Stella whispers. “There is nothing on Earth she could do to deserve that kind of pain.”

Tears start to form at the corners of Katie’s eyes, but she is keeping her eyes open to make sure they don’t fall.

Stella takes a deep breath and leans across the table. “Katie, when you were thirteen, you made a mistake. And because of some terrible twist of fate, there was a tragic consequence. But it wasn’t your fault, Katie. Your father’s death wasn’t your fault.”

It’s getting harder for Katie to hold back her tears.

“I think you understand that Fiona Gallagher, Alice Monroe, Sarah Kaye, Annie Brawley, and Rose Stagg did not deserve what was done to them. But you don’t deserve it either, Katie. You deserve to live.”

Katie turns her head to the side and begins to cry. It starts as just a few tears escaping down her cheeks, but then something catches in her throat and she’s heaving and shaking from the sheer force of her weeping. The monitoring officer rushes to her side and drapes an arm around the back of her chair.

Stella flips her hands so her palms are lying open on the table. Katie reaches across and presses one of Stella’s hands between hers, holds on so tightly that her nails leave marks.

Stella exchanges a glance with the monitoring officer. This is not standard procedure, but neither one of them are going to stop Katie. Not now.

After some time, Katie loosens her grip around Stella’s hand. Her wet and bloodshot eyes meet Stella’s, and her voice is so rough and quiet that Stella can hardly hear her when she speaks.

“I just wanted...”

Katie shakes her head; she doesn’t want to continue. Stella squeezes her hand, gently at first, and then harder. So Katie can feel that she’s there.

“I wanted him to crush me,” Katie whispers. “I wanted there to be nothing left.”

 _I know,_ Stella almost says. But she stops herself. “It’s okay, Katie. You’re okay. I’m here for you now.”

Katie lets out a shaky breath. “Are you? Because I think it was him. I think he did it. And I...”

Stella shushes her gently. “No. Not now. How about you tell me about it, from the beginning?”

Katie withdraws her hand from Stella’s and leans back. She sniffles once, and then she nods. “All right,” she whispers. And then, louder, stronger: “All right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually where I was convinced they were going with Katie, and I guess they may still get there. Although I'm not sure. But so much of the media reaction to Katie was "look at this stupid, hormonal, reckless teenage girl" and no one was thinking much below the surface. In fact, the jury's still out on whether the show itself was thinking much below the surface. 
> 
> Point is: save Katie Benedetto. 
> 
> The next chapter is probably the biggest challenge I've set for myself for this project. So be patient. :D


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You snap the band on your wrist when your thoughts and feelings overwhelm you." Stella talks to Spector.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a big chapter in a lot of ways. First, I am playing in Allan Cubitt's playground and I think I was more aware of it writing the interrogation scene then at any other point. So thanks, Cubitt. Don't fuck up series three too badly!
> 
> This chapter is potentially very triggering and I want people to be aware of that going in. Discussion of sexual violence and sexual abuse, and **child sex abuse**. CSA is described and not just referenced.
> 
> *Deep breath in* Here we go...

Katie tells Stella everything. She tells her about finding a lock of hair in Paul’s attic, and how that led him to attack her. She tells her about stripping for Paul on a staircase—how she half expected him to assault her again, and how much she hated herself for almost _wanting_ it.  And how, of course, there really is no alibi. Paul came home at two in the morning, giving him plenty of time to execute the attack against the Brawleys.

She tells Stella about putting the pieces together and accusing Paul of being the killer right to his face.

“It made me feel alive. Like I _could_ be alive,” she says. “I don’t know. I’m shit at describing it.”

Stella doesn’t say anything. She just sits there for over an hour, listening.

When Katie’s done, she perches a foot on her chair and brings her knee up to her chin. She doesn’t acknowledge Stella; she just stares at the edge of the table. The juvenile specialist officer nods at Stella, as if to say _I’ll take it from here._

But just leaving Katie like this doesn’t feel right.

“I started this interview by apologizing to you, Katie,” Stella says. “And I want to again. There are so many people here, myself included, who have failed you. I’m so sorry.”

Katie finally looks up at Stella. Her eyes are glassy, but Stella can still see the shock register. And then Katie moves her eyes back the desk and shrugs slightly. “I’m sorry, too,” she whispers. And then the juvenile specialist approaches her and starts to talk to her in hushed, gentle tones, and Stella knows that she can’t stay any longer.

But before she leaves, Stella lingers at the door. After a few moments, Katie glances at her, and she offers Stella a forced, shaky smile before dissolving into tears again.

Stella hurries out into the hall, and she finds that there is a small gaggle of people waiting for her. Burns, McNally, Rick, DC Larkin—and they’re all talking at once.

Stella massages her temple, and then she looks up at the group. Eastwood has now joined them; he must have just left the monitoring suite.

Stella sighs. “Let’s move this into the bullpen, shall we?”

She leads them all down the hall, ignoring any whispering that might be happening between McNally and Rick. When they get to the bullpen, she tosses her bag on the table and waits for them to arrange themselves around her.

“One at a time,” she says, and she nods at McNally.

“I just finished up an interview with Sally Ann Spector,” McNally starts. “She mentioned that Paul had given Olivia a necklace, something that was perhaps more suited to a grown woman than a girl. We had her describe the necklace, and then she was able to positively ID the necklace as one that had belonged to Sarah Kay.”

Stella smiles. “We have him for Sarah Kay, then. What else?”

“Actually we have him for all three murdered women, ma’am,” Rick adds. “The audio forensics team expedited the recordings from Spector’s recent interview with McNally. The little speech he gave provided us enough words to go back and compare known recordings of Paul Spector with known recordings of the killer from your conversation with him. And the results are,” he turns and smiles at Larkin.

“Probably,” Larkin supplies. “The man who called the station with information that only the killer would have is probably Paul Spector.”

There’s a short silence, and then Rick starts applauding. McNally and Larkin join in, but Stella raises her eyebrows at the three of them and they abruptly stop.

“All right, then,” Stella says. “We can further arrest Spector for the murders of Fiona Gallagher, Alice Monroe, and Sarah Kay. Now we can shift our focus to extracting a confession.”

Burns cuts in here. “Stella, is it your intention to interview Spector yourself?”

“It is.” Stella crosses her arms. Jim’s nothing if not predictable.

“Don’t you think we should send Eastwood in there? Someone he’s a little less keen to talk to? He did read your diary, Stella. He’s going to try to push your buttons.”

Stella levels him with her eyes. “When I was a DC at the Met, my colleagues and I had a betting pool. How many times will a criminal find a way to crudely bring up my vagina or my sex life during the interview process? I won a lot of money off of that pool. Do you want to know why?”

“Why?” McNally asks from across the table. Stella wouldn’t be surprised if something similar has happened to her.

“Because I always put in the highest number,” Stella says. “Trust me, sir, there is nothing Spector can say to me that I haven’t heard before. And we can’t waste our time with multiple interviewers when it’s clear he’s most likely to confess to me.”

Burns nods in reply. He’s flushed and distracted. “If you must. I want to be monitoring though.”

Stella has to close her eyes to keep them from rolling. “Right. Rick, do you want to contact the jailer and see when we can speak to Spector?”

“Yes, ma’am. My guess would be he’ll be ready in about ninety minutes, but I’ll confirm,” Rick says, and then he leaves the room.

“Ninety minutes,” Stella repeats quietly. McNally and Larkin seem to pick up on the fact that Stella needs some time to herself, so they leave. McNally’s muttering something about Sally Ann.

Burns stays in the room. “Are you sure about this, Stella?”

“Yes,” she replies, clipped and calm. “But I’ll need some concentrated time to prepare.”

She stares him down until he relents and leaves. Stella releases a long, steady breath, and then she ducks into her office. Checks her messages.

There’s a voicemail from Dr. Lo:

“Hi, Detective Superintendent, this is Dr. Lo. We’re getting ready to start preliminary questioning with Olivia. I wanted to let you know that the team is focusing our investigation on a drawing that was found in Olivia’s room, not one of hers. It looks like an adult drew it, possibly Spector. Of a naked woman. We don’t want to get ahead of ourselves, but if he’s been drawing pornography and giving it to her... well, we may be making an arrest sooner than we anticipated. I’ll update you again after we speak to Olivia. Thanks. Bye.”

Stella plays the message twice, three times. And then she smiles. She knows what she needs to do.

* * *

Everything is in order. Burns and Eastwood are set up in the monitoring suite, and the jailer’s assured her that she can take as much time as she needs with him.

When she enters the room, Spector looks her up and down. It’s a sweep of the eye that Stella’s accustomed to: equal parts appreciative and predatory. She takes her time walking to the interview table, and she lets the click of her four-inch heels resonate in the emptiness of the room.

She sits down, and she sets her folder and her iPad down next to her.  Spector is waiting for her to meet his stare, but instead of indulging him, she takes a moment to adjust the cuffs of her blouse. Spector watches her do it.

She’s worn her favorite white silk blouse.

When she’s done, she lays her hands flat on the table. She clears her throat lightly and begins: “The time is 10:27 pm. I’m Detective Superintendent Stella Gibson. Paul Spector, in light of new evidence gathered over the past few hours, I am further arresting you for the murders of Fiona Gallagher, Alice Monroe, and Sarah Kay. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

Spector breathes in deeply, and then breathes out. Then he scoffs and shakes his head. “Is that all?”

“Tell me when this began for you.”

“You’re going to need to be more specific than that, Stella.”

Stella lets her voice shift into a higher register; it makes her sound more feminine, almost sweeter. “Tell me about the very beginning, your childhood. Your mother killed herself. You were left in the care of a man who was later arrested for child sexual abuse. Were you angry at her, for abandoning you?”

Spector chuckles. “Why don’t _you_ tell me about it, Stella? You seem to have it all worked out.”

“No,” Stella says quietly. “I want to hear it from you. Were you a lonely child?”

“Were you?’ he asks back. He mimics the calm, low whisper in her voice.

Stella’s used to this: many criminals try to derail an interview by trying to unearth personal information about the interviewer. And one of the first things you learn as a DC is how not to give anything away.

Stella doesn’t say anything. He’ll be compelled to fill the silence soon enough.

And he does. “All children are lonely. They don’t need to lose their parents to feel that. Although I didn’t think it would be like you, to blame my mother. To blame the woman. As I understand it, you love women, Stella.”

Stella considers chiding him for the low blow, but for now, she resists. She lets a raised eyebrow be her only reaction.

There’s another spell of silence, a short one. Stella breaks it. “Did you break and enter, when you were a child?”

“Yes.”

“How old?”

Spector thinks for a moment. “Twelve.”

“Fetish theft?”

“Yes.”

“Sexual fantasies?”

Spector grins. “What about them?”

Stella pauses, takes a moment to clear her mind before continuing. She knows Spector will turn this back on her. The only thing she can do is be prepared for it.

“Were your fantasies always sexual?” she asks. “Did it start at age twelve?”

Spector leans in. Stella glances at the space on the table between their hands, and her eyes draw an invisible line between them. She looks up at Spector and waits for him to communicate that he understands: he does not cross that line. He does not try to touch her.

Spector shifts his body back, and Stella nods slightly. The boundary is clear now.

The physical one, at least. Spector lowers his voice to answer Stella’s question. “Aren’t everyone’s fantasies sexual? Aren’t yours?”

“When did the fantasies start becoming violent?” she asks abruptly. She immediately recognizes her mistake; it now appears like she was afraid to answer Spector’s question. And he’ll interpret that as vulnerability.

Maybe that’s not so bad. Let him think she’s compromised. It will surprise him all the more when she reveals she’s not.

Spector tsks lightly. “You’re making it sound simple. And even if you don’t understand it, I know you know it’s not that that simple.”

“How do you know I don’t understand?” Stella counters. She knows this will lead him right to what he read in the diary. But she’s ready, this time.

There’s a slight flash of recognition in Spector’s eyes. Perhaps he sees where Stella is guiding him.  But if he does, it doesn’t stop him.

“I’ve read your fantasies, Stella.” He hisses out the first letter of her name. “You spend a lot of time aware of yourself, observing yourself. Obsessed with yourself, even. Even when you fantasize, you can’t get out of your own head. When there’s a beautiful woman in front of you, you can’t bring yourself to touch her. You can’t cross the line, even when you desperately want to, so you’ll never know how good it feels to be on the other side.”

“Then tell me how it feels.”

Spector’s eyes are dilated and shining now, and Stella can hear a slight change in his breathing. She suspects he’s getting hard under the desk. “What I experience is so far beyond what you consider to be fantasy, Stella. My ear becomes sensitive to the softest of sounds, colors are more vivid, smells are more intense. My skin reacts to the slightest of pressure. The interior, what you perhaps would think to be an illusion, or a weakness, becomes the only thing that is real. The outside world, where you live, Stella, fades out completely. Your laws and moralities, your religions, your fears, are all disposable, and ultimately as meaningless as your very life.”

She lets his words breathe for a moment. He has not confessed quite yet, but he is caught in the heady momentum of sharing his world with her. Stella suppresses a smile.  So long as he wants to talk, this will be easy for her.

“Tell me about the first attack. Was it Rose, or were there others before her?”

Spector shakes his head. “No others.”

“What about after?”

“Sally Ann had Olivia around then,” Spector says quietly. He looks away from Stella for a moment, and when he looks up his eyes are hard. “Small children take up all your time. But you wouldn’t know about that, Stella. No one’s ever loved you enough to give you a child.”

Stella’s first impulse is to burst out laughing, but she’s done this long enough to know exactly how to stop herself. Bring yourself back to something decidedly not funny, grotesque, even. A shallow grave, she thinks. Rose’s namesake growing from her body.

“So you waited,” Stella says. “But not forever. Tell me about the first time.”

Paul sighs and folds his hands together. “I don’t think I can describe it to you as I experienced it,” he starts. He speaks slowly, as if addressing a particularly dim child, “Not in a way you can understand. But I can give you a starting point. Nietzsche describes man as a tightrope walker between animal and Overman. Behind him is the beast, the worm, and in front of him is the meaning and _power_ he has been seeking. Beneath him is the abyss. So you're walking the tightrope. And as you do this, you think you could succumb to baser instincts: some appeal to your conscience, some sudden move to pity, or even just revulsion at the stench when it’s over. And you almost do. After, I was ill for days. I was in shock. But there were no consequences. The herd didn’t come to trample me. Because it _couldn’t._  It didn’t have that power. It had no power over me at all. So, I thought, okay. Why not do it again... but _better_?”

“Alice Monroe.”

Spector pauses. “Yes. Better. I spent time with her, after. Put her back to bed. Took some pictures.”

“Cleaned her up?” Stella asks softly.

“I washed her, yes. And the sheets.”

“According to the pathologist’s report, Alice Monroe was menstruating at the time of her death.”

“The pathologist’s report?” Spector echoes. His voice is high and breathy, a pale mimic of Stella’s.

“Yes,” Stella replies, ignoring Spector’s implication. “So you washed the blood away along with the urine and the feces. You said before you almost succumbed to the smell. Tell me, did Alice Monroe’s menstrual blood make it better or worse for you?”

Spector lets out a breath and chooses his words carefully. “I wasn’t sick afterwards this time, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Stella frowns; that wasn’t what she was asking, but she pushes on. “She was strangled for forty-five minutes. Her killer tightened and loosened his grip on her throat. There are only two reasons this would happen. The first is the killer does not have enough physical power to strangle her in one go. That his hands tired. The second is that he intends to torture the victim.”

“It’s not the first.”

Stella raises an eyebrow. “I surmised as much. So, tell me. Why do you torture them?”

His eyes sparkle with moisture. “As I said, you don’t know what it’s like to cross the line.  You would never be brave enough to even approach it. But I can bring you to a place that you can never reach yourself. I can bring you so close to the edge that you will be begging me to let you fall.”

Stella shakes her head. “You’re describing sex. What your victims experienced was pain that is beyond your comprehension, and mine. Do you perform sexual acts on them?”

“I’m not a rapist.”

Stella knows that he’s legally correct, but she’s never quite understood or supported the legal definition of rape in the UK. So she uses her own. “You are driven by sexual fantasies and you act out with force. You violate your victims and force yourself physically onto them without their consent. You’re a rapist.”

She waits for it to register. She sees a brief, blinding anger flash across Spector’s face, but then it settles back into smug condescension. Good, Stella thinks.  Next time I push back, it will be harder. Better.

“Sarah Kay,” Stella says.

“Yes.”

“You put her back to bed, did her nails, photographed her. Filmed her, even. I attended the crime scene. She looked perfectly placed, each limb right where it needed to be. Accommodating a man’s eye and man’s body. She could have been your magnum opus.”

“Perhaps.”

“But she was pregnant.”

Spector looks at the floor. “That she was.”

“And your perfect kill was tainted. So you sought another, but much too soon. Your victim lived in a volatile neighborhood in the north, and you didn’t expect to hit resistance.”

Spector chuckles and paws at his beard. There’s a restless energy in the room; Stella can sense that Spector is craving physical activity. His body wants to stretch out. “You mean Jimmy Tyler or Joe Brawley?”

“Let’s say Joe Brawley.”

And now he does lean back, almost far enough to tip the chair. But he retains the balance, leaning forward just at he right time. “That wasn’t resistance. That was a joke. He couldn’t protect his own life, let alone his sister’s. How much could he have claimed to care about her if all he could muster for a weak blow on my side?  He deserved to die.”

Stella lets a short silence pass. She’s getting ready to move on to his attack on Annie when Spector interrupts her train of thought.

“You think so too.”

Stella can’t quite hide her surprise. “Do I?”

“You made a list for me, on the phone. For Fiona Gallagher, Alice Monroe, Sarah Kay, Annie Brawley. No Joe Brawley.”

He’s baiting her, and she knows at much. But she has the confessions she needs; if she wants Rose’s location, now is the time to stop being a bystander.

Stella leans in. “Did you go to that house to kill Joe Brawley?”

Spector says nothing.

“I thought not. You went to kill Annie. If Joe hadn’t interfered, or if he hadn’t been home, he would have been safe. Tell me, what constitutes protection in your world?”

Spector gazes back at her with wide eyes. His pupils are still dilated. “How do you mean?”

“It would never occur to you to kill a man for the purpose of displaying him. So I would guess that men, provided they stay out of your way, are protected from you. And you wrote that you are protective of children. They’re innocent. Although perhaps...”

“Perhaps what, Stella?” He’s mirroring her tone of voice again. But it’s imperfect, lacking the usual mocking edge. That’s good. Progress.

“Katie Benedetto is sixteen. Surely a child. But you performed a sex act on yourself for her,” Stella says. Spector’s eyes widen; that surprised him. “She filmed it. And you assaulted her on to two separate occasions. So a female child is not necessarily protected from you. But would I be correct in thinking that, say, Olivia, is protected?”

A flush colors Spector’s face. Stella wonders idly if he is still hard under the desk, if her new line of interrogation is fuelling his arousal or diminishing it.

“She’s my _daughter_ ,” he says.

“Yes. Of course.” Stella offers Spector a tight smile. “I’d expect as much. But it is still true that all of your victims are women. You spend some time stalking each one: first on the internet, then in person. You collect them, remake them, it must be something of a hobby to you. Each woman a project. But Rose Stagg. Rose Stagg wasn’t like that, was she? Rose has children. In other circumstances, she might have been protected. So why wasn’t she?”

Spector huffs a laugh. Any vulnerability he displayed at the mention of Olivia is gone. “Why do _you_ think?”

“Kidnapping Rose was never about Rose,” Stella answers. “It was about me.”

“Thinking a little highly of yourself there, Stella. Contrary to what you believe, not everything is about you.”

Stella lets out a tiny breath of air. She’s sure Spector can’t hear it. “No, but this was. There was a quote from me to press, when we released the EFIT. So you imagined that when Rose talked, she talked to me. And you thought that kidnapping her and putting her in danger might, I don’t know, put me in my place.”

Spector’s silence affirms that she’s right on target.

“The thing is,” she continues, “you were in Scotland. We would have ID’d you from the print on the scissors, but it would have taken us much longer to find you if you had just stayed in Scotland. But you came back. You weren’t happy with how our phone conversation ended, so you needed to prove that you were superior to me. That you were the overman, and I was the worm, even though I thought it was the other way around. So you kidnapped my witness. You snuck into my hotel room, pawed through my underthings, read my diary. And you stalked my friend.”

“Your lust object,” Spector hisses.

“My friend,” Stella repeats.  

Paul leans in, crosses the imaginary line that Stella drew at the beginning of the interview. “Oh, no. You posture on some moral high ground, but I am so far beyond you.  You become obsessed with your desires, Stella, because you can only ever act on them in the bounds of your laws and your moralities. You’re a slave, Stella, but I’m _free_.”

“You’re under arrest. You’re going to prison. In what way are you free?”

She expects that revelation to keep him quiet for some time, but to her surprise he lashes right back out. “It wasn’t just the pathologist, Stella, and it wasn’t just the faceless men you fucked into oblivion. Your father. You’re obsessed with his hands, his skin, you press your little naked body against him. Tell me, Stella, do you feel shame when you wake up from those dreams? You must. Remember little Stella, wanting nothing more than Daddy to come into her bedroom and make her his. Imagine being able to let that shame go. You can’t, can you? But I don’t live with shame. Because you’re a slave, and I am free.”

Stella takes a deep breath in and starts counting. In better circumstances, she could set aside one hundred seconds for this, but now the most she can afford is twenty. She feels the muscles in her arms and shoulders tense, and she knows she’s not going to be able to release them. Not yet.

Twenty seconds. She’s there for twenty seconds, back to her parents’ bathroom with its blue tile and gleaming white marble. She’s come to steal her mum’s lipstick, or maybe just her Paracetemol-- she’s been back to this moment so many times but it’s still so hazy. She doesn’t remember her father coming in. Daddy asks her what she wants and she can’t answer, she’s embarrassed. She’s reaching for a high shelf and her shirt is scratching against her flat chest. _Do you need a lift?_ Daddy asks, but she’s big now, nearly eleven. _No, I can reach it, Daddy._ But her hands flail just below the top shelf, so Daddy moves behind her and grasps her slight hips in his hands. When he lifts her, her bum brushes against his erection. _Daddy, what...?_ And then he lowers her down, carefully, reverently, and sets her on her feet. _Let me show you._ And she can’t remember if she reached for his penis or if he guided her, but she can still feel pressure of his palm on her wrist as he dragged her small hand across the ridges of his cock. She thinks her bones might break under his touch. But they don’t. And it keeps going.

Twenty seconds is over.  Spector’s been watching her, fascinated. Smiling. Like he knows he has her.

He doesn’t. “Is that really what you’ve concluded? Contrary to what you believe, that’s not about me at all. In fact, I think that’s about _you_.  Tell me, Paul, in that fantasy, are you the father that I so desperately want to fuck? And how old am I? Maybe... oh, I don’t know, eight? Little and blonde with my dolls and my drawings of the two of us together?”

Spector’s eyes harden. Stella smirks. This is over.

“You told me Olivia was protected from you, but she’s not. We found a sketch of yours in her bedroom. We know there’s an attic space right above her bed. Is that where you kept your notes, your plans? Your homemade pornography? We know you gave her a necklace of Sarah Kay’s. Tell me, why do you align the sexual spoils of your crimes so closely with your eight-year-old daughter?”

“Fuck you, Stella,” Spector rasps. “Fuck you.”

“Oh, I’m not finished,” Stella says. “You left with her, when you wanted to escape from us. Why? So you could have her all to yourself? For what purpose? What would you do when she started puberty? Got her period? Grew breasts? Started dating boys or, I don’t know, girls, maybe? She wouldn’t be yours anymore, would she? She was never going to stay yours. So what would you have done?”

Spector drags his palms across the interview table. “You fucking cunt.”

“Where’s Rose?”

“No. This is over.”

Stella leans in. “Where is Rose Stagg?”

“I’m finished.”

“You’re not. Where’s Rose?”

Spector makes a fist and bangs it against the table. “We’re fucking finished!”

Stella drops her voice to a barely-audible murmur. “Listen to me. We’ve opened up a child sex abuse inquiry. Our team has been speaking with Olivia, and they’ve told me they’re nearly ready to arrest you for the sexual abuse of your daughter. Once that happens, we will do everything in our power to make sure you never go near her again. But if you bring us to Rose, then perhaps we will take our time processing the evidence. We might even let you see your daughter one final time.”

Spector drops his elbows to the table and puts his head in his hands.

“That’s my offer,” Stella says. “You have one hour to take it or leave it. Choose wisely.”

The interview is over, Stella gets up and walks out. She turns to take one final look at Spector before she leaves, and she swears she sees tears in his eyes. But it could just as easily be a trick of the light.

* * *

 Jim meets her as soon as she exits the interview room. “That’s it,” he says. “You’ve got him. Well done.”

Stella brushes past him, but he follows. She makes sure that she keeps a step ahead of him. “Send McNally in there in an hour’s time. She can get the details of Rose’s location. Or the location of her remains.”

Jim touches her shoulder to keep her from walking away. “Stella.”

She has to stop herself from dropping her things and batting his hand away. She clutches her papers and materials closer to her chest. Her hands are tense and aching. “What is it?”

“The child sex abuse unit isn’t going to consent to Spector seeing Olivia again. And neither is Sally Ann, for that matter.”

Stella sets her mouth on a line. Sometimes it’s really obvious that Jim hasn’t done significant investigative work in some time. “Yes, but Spector doesn’t know that,” she says. “We get Rose first, then we pull the rug out from under him. Not much he can do about it from jail.”

“Stella...”

“I have to use the toilet,” she says sharply, and then she moves quickly, so he knows he’s not invited to follow.

Once she’s out of his sight, she breaks into run. It takes her less than a minute to get inside her office and shut the door behind her. Lock it. Close the blinds. Drop all her things. The lights are out, and there’s no window to the outside, but it still doesn’t feel dark enough. But it will have to do.

Stella collapses against the doorframe and then slides to the floor of her office. She can feel dust and chipped paint rub against her silk shirt, but she doesn’t care, she _doesn’t care_ , if she can feel the material of her shirt then she knows she’s _here_ and not back in that fucking bathroom. She starts banging her wrist against the wall—it’s her last resort coping mechanism, but _god_ , it still works after twenty-five years.

And back then it was all that worked.

She starts taking a silent inventory.  Desk.  Chair. Laptop.  Bulletin board with the evidence tacked on. Cot.  File cabinet.  Her bag’s not here: it must still be in monitoring area.

_No, I can reach it, Daddy!_

She breathes in, but the exhale is shaky. The room feels humid, like it’s carrying water, like at any moment someone might open a door and steam will pour through.  Sometimes when she remembers this, her father’s just stepping out of the shower, and he drops a towel instead of opening his trousers.  The details have rearranged themselves so many times that the only thing Stella knows for sure is that it happened.

She bangs her wrist against the wall, hard.

Her hand collapses on to the cot, and suddenly she knows exactly how she’s going to get out of this. She slides across the floor to her desk and reaches up toward the phone.  She tugs at the cord and the phone topples to the ground, but it’s intact and still wired to the wall.

She dials the mortuary.

“Hello, this is Detective Superintendent Gibson. Can you... can you connect me with Professor Reed Smith, please? If she’s still in.”

The desk attendant puts her through. Stella cradles the phone between her ear and shoulder and scratches idly at the inside of her wrist as she waits.

“Stella?”

Stella breathes out. “Hey.”

“I got your message. Do you have news?”

Stella shifts herself around and leans her back against her desk. “Spector confessed. He hasn’t told us where Rose is yet, but I’m confident he is going to, and soon.”

There’s a long silence on the other line. Stella pictures Tanya chewing her lip, and she chews at her own in response. She has to stop herself from biting too hard. “How do you know?” Tanya asks.

“Well, in plain terms, I’ve blackmailed him.”

“Oh.” There’s some rustling paper on the other line. The sound of a laptop closing. A purse zipper.

Tanya is really there.

“So it’s not nothing,” Stella says.

“It’s not,” Tanya echoes. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Can you...” Stella starts, but she finds she can’t quite finish her request. She closes her eyes and feels the muscles in her shoulders tighten.

“Stella?” Tanya asks gently. “What do you need?”

Stella counts to five and breathes in through her nose, out through her mouth. “Can you talk to me for a little bit? Just about, well, anything really. Something about your daughters, perhaps.”

“Umm... all right,” Tanya says. “Well, just after Diana turned one, Soni got it in her head that she was going to read to her baby sister. Of course, she wasn’t even four herself yet, so she didn’t know how to read. She had only just learned to write her name. But she found one of the big art books in the house, something that I had gotten ages ago from the National Gallery. Or, more accurately, I found her looking through one of my anatomy books and quickly found her something more appropriate. And she sat in front of Diana for hours and made up stories to go with all of the paintings. And I don’t think Diana followed it at all, but the book’s still in their room. It’s moved a few times. I like to think they still go through it together from time to time.”

Stella’s breathing has evened out; it’s been following the steady ups and downs of Tanya’s voice. She rubs at her eyes and feels each crusty piece of dried mascara fall from her lashes. Her vision is fuzzy around the edges, but after a few seconds it begins to clear.

Here is the cot, the filing cabinet, the window that looks into the bullpen. She is in her office at the PSNI station in Belfast, and it is 2012. She is not a child anymore. She is on the phone with someone she trusts, and she is not in danger.

And there is work to do.

“Stella? Are you there?”

Her voice, when she finds it, is soft but sure. “I am,” she says. “I’m right here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really interested in getting feedback on this because I just played the Stella backstory hand (well... part of it... there's more to come...) and do want to know how people reacted.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The path to Rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life kicked my ass this month, and that's why this chapter is so late. Argh. Anyway, thank you for sticking with it if you're still here. 
> 
> I made up all of the police procedure in this chapter, all of it. I tried to be mildly less absurd than this point in the show, but to be honest, I think it's about even in ridiculous unbelievableness. 
> 
> Triggers: mentions of child sex abuse, sex abuse and assault, violence. Descriptions of violence. Paul Spector continues to be the literal worst!

She stays on the phone a little while longer, just listening to Tanya talk. She nods off with the phone pressed into her ear, and the last thing she hears before she falls asleep is Tanya’s voice: _Soni’s always the one saying it’s going to be okay. Maybe she’s the one we should call. Stella?_

Stella wakes up to someone else asking for her. “Ma’am? Ma’am? Are you awake?”

It’s DC McNally. Stella forces her eyes open and nudges the phone off her shoulder. She looks up at McNally as she massages her neck and upper back. God, when this is all over she is going to sleep in a proper bed for an obscene amount of time.

“What news?” Stella asks. Her voice is scratchy; she can’t remember the last time she had any water.

“I spoke to Spector,” McNally says. “He is ready to give us Rose’s location, but he wants some kind of assurance that we’ll hold up our end of the bargain.”

Stella brushes some of the dust from her clothes and then hoists herself from the floor. “We have no intention of holding up our end of the bargain. But we can always ask...”

“Sally Ann,” McNally finishes. “I suggested it to her and she didn’t take it well. I thought you might have more luck.”

Stella frowns. “If anything, Sally Ann’s less likely to listen to me.”

McNally inclines her head towards the door, and Stella nods. Stella grabs her bag. They walk out of her office, through the bullpen, and into the hallway. McNally’s moving quickly, trying to keep a step ahead of Stella. “Better you than ACC Burns,” she mutters, and then speeds up.

“Gail,” Stella says firmly. McNally stops and turns around.

Stella sighs. “No one thought to get me sooner? Let me monitor your conversation with Spector?”

McNally looks at the floor for a moment, and then she looks back up at Stella with big, kind eyes. “You weren’t answering your phone. Eastwood said it might be okay to let you be, just for a little bit. I didn’t fight it. I probably should have. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Stella says softly. “It’s okay. Don’t... don’t worry about it. Where’s Sally Ann?”

McNally leads Stella to one of the comfort rooms just outside the interviewing suite. Sally Ann is there, sitting in a low chair at a bare table, just staring into the space. McNally taps her knuckles on the door to get her attention.

“Hi, Sally,” McNally says.

The greeting startles Sally Ann. She takes a few moments to come back from wherever it is she was. She acknowledges McNally with a small nod but can’t quite meet her eyes.

“I brought DSI Gibson,” McNally continues. “She interviewed Paul, and she can walk you through what you’ll need to say to him for this.”

Stella takes a seat at the table across from Sally Ann. McNally shuffles around the room a bit before sitting down on the couch in the far corner of the room, so she’s still in Sally Ann’s line of sight.

Stella folds her hands on the table and clears her throat “From what I’ve heard, DC McNally’s filled you in on the deal we offered Paul.”

Sally Ann’s eyes flash. “Yeah, she did.”

“Sally Ann, I want you to know that we have no intention of actually letting Paul see Olivia. We are—“

“I would fucking hope so,” Sally Ann mutters. She looks at Stella and then sighs deeply. “I’m sorry.” 

Stella shakes her head. “Don’t be.”

“I did the math,” Sally Ann says roughly. “We conceived this kid three days after the second one, Alice, I think.  Just three days.”

There’s a long, tense silence. Sally Ann starts unconsciously scratching at her arms.  Stella watches her: her nails are short but she’s really digging them in, hard enough to leave marks. Stella finds herself wanting to reach across the table and still Sally Ann’s hands.

But she knows better. Instead she offers Sally Ann what she hopes is a calming smile.

“You won’t be in there with him for more than two minutes,” Stella assures her. “We will give you a short script, and then we will immediately escort you out of the interview room.  You won’t be in there long enough for him to retaliate in any way, if you’re concerned about that.”

Sally Ann nods. She’s still scratching.

“I’m not concerned about that,” Sally Ann says, and then she pauses, looks away. “He’s always been okay with me.  He never tried...  I consented to everything we did together in bed. He never hurt me.”

Sally Ann looks at Stella with tear-filled eyes, and Stella forces herself to return Sally Ann’s gaze. But she can’t quite hold it. She stares at her own hands, which are still folded on the table.

“I think he’s hurt you plenty,” Stella whispers.

Sally Ann keeps scratching. Stella looks at Sally Ann’s hands, and then Sally Ann sees what she’s doing.  Sally Ann releases a small “oh” in realization and lays her hands flat on the table.

“Sorry,” she mutters.

Stella smiles weakly.  She can’t take back what Sally Ann has learned about her husband. There was a time in her life when Stella might have wanted that for Sally Ann, wanted to protect her from the truth.  But not anymore.

“Don’t be sorry,” Stella says.

Stella retrieves a piece of paper and a pen from her bag. She writes down a short statement for Sally Ann, and then she offers the paper for Sally Ann to read.

“So long as you cooperate completely with the police and agree not to engage in any physical contact, I consent to you meeting with Olivia,” Stella recites. “Repeat that back to me.”

Sally Ann clears her throat. “So long as you cooperate completely with the police and agree not to engage in any physical contact, I consent to you meeting with Olivia”

“Good. This time without the paper.”

Sally Ann glances over the words a few times and then flips the paper over. “So long as you cooperate completely with the police and agree not to engage in any physical contact, I consent to you meeting with Olivia.”

Stella smiles. “Good. Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

Stella and McNally lead Sally Ann to the interviewing suite. Stella has to peel off and find to go the monitoring area, but before she goes, she touches Sally Ann’s arm.

“You’ll be fine,” Stella says.

The rest she watches from the monitoring area. There are two male officers in there with Sally Ann and McNally—one is Rick, and the other is a particularly intimidating PC that Eastwood snatched from patrol.

“Interview commenced at 12:35 AM on May the 9th, 2012. I’m DC Gail McNally. Also present is DS Richard Neilson, PC Cillian Campbell, Sally Ann Spector, and Paul Spector,” says McNally, and then she nods at Sally Ann.

“Paul,” Sally Ann starts slowly, “So long as you cooperate completely with the police and, um, agree not to engage in physical contact, then I consent to you meeting with Olivia.”

“Is that to your satisfaction?” McNally asks Spector. She can’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Spector just sighs heavily. “It is.”

“Good,” McNally says. “Thank you, Sally Ann.”

Rick moves to the table to lead Sally Ann out of the room, but before he can get there, Spector speaks: “Am I going to see you again?”

Sally Ann doesn’t look at him when she answers. “No, Paul. I don’t think so.” And then she leaves the room with Rick.

It’s just McNally and Spector left at the interview table. “That’s our end,” McNally says. “Now yours. Where is Rose Stagg?”

Spector looks up at the camera, sighs, and then looks back at McNally. And he tells her.

* * *

They have to let Spector get six hours of uninterrupted rest before they let him lead them to Rose. He’s told them she’s in Cairn wood, about twenty minutes away from Central Belfast, but they need him to show them exactly where.

He won’t tell them whether or not she’s alive.

As it is, they’ll need most of that time to prepare. Ged has his hands full arranging for helicopters, and they’ll need every detective associated with the case either on the ground or working surveillance from the station.

Stella, Eastwood, and Burns meet in the bullpen to talk about organizing the team.

“I want DC Martin leading a group of body men around Spector,” Burns starts, and Stella nearly drops the dry erase marker she’s holding.

“Martin?” she asks, and then she scoffs. “He’s hardly qualified.”

“What would you suggest? McNally?” Burns counters.

Stella picks the dry erase marker back up and heads to the whiteboard. She draws a few circles to represent teams of detectives and uniformed officers, and then she draws an arrow to represent the rescue team that will attempt to recover Rose.  She looks at it and frowns. Without knowing where in the forest Spector is hiding Rose, they can’t map their strategy with any kind of geographically accuracy or detail.

“Not McNally,” Stella says to herself, and then she turns from the whiteboard and looks at Burns. “But we must have a capable DS or DI with the leadership skills to control the uniforms and the physical strength to handle Spector.”

Burns sighs. “Not with the kind of knowledge of Spector that Martin has. He’s been on this case from the start.”

Stella turns around fully and stares at Eastwood. She talks to Burns, but she never lets her eyes stray from Eastwood’s face. “I’m not sure how much DCI Eastwood has told you, but DC Martin has had considerable trouble accepting my authority.”

Burns clears his throat and looks at the floor. “He might have.... mentioned something. But you’ll be on the ground, and Martin will be doing most of his interfacing with me at Control.”

Stella offers Eastwood a conciliatory nod, and then she turns back to ACC Burns. “If you insist. But do take Eastwood’s report of Martin’s behavior seriously. And do bear in mind that someone from the surveillance mission at the Spector home left a drawing somewhere other than where he initially found it. And I don’t think it was someone from the specialized surveillance team.”

There’s an uneasy silence. Finally, Burns breaks it. “I’ll talk to DC Martin.  Make sure he’s in order. But you should have some faith in him, Stella. He’s a good officer.”

Burns acknowledges her and Eastwood with curt nods and leaves them to put together the rest of the team.

Eastwood picks up a dry erase marker and taps it against his palm. “Burns took Martin under his wing when Martin with just a PC. Burns does that with some of the Catholic officers.  Tries to mentor them.”

“Male Catholic officers?” Stella asks.

The question surprises Eastwood. “Now that I think of it, yes.”

Stella just nods. “Explains a lot about how things work around here.”

The two of them let that comment linger for moment, and then they get to work.

They develop a system quite quickly: she lays out the units she thinks they’ll need, and he recommends officers to fill them. She appreciates his honest assessments of each team member’s strengths and weaknesses, and she’s pleased when he suggests putting Mary McCurdy on the ground instead of at Control.

“No one organizes and mobilizes people quite like DS McCurdy,” Eastwood says. “If we don’t have her on the ground keeping us all in line, we’ll regret it.”

They have the entire team divvied up when Stella makes one final request. “I want Dani Ferrington on the ground as well. Either on the Spector team or on one of the adjacent ones.”

Eastwood nods. “That can be arranged. I’m going to check in with Ged. I think you can squeeze in an hour nap before we need to start briefing the troops.”

Stella would protest, but frankly it’s not a bad suggestion. She’ll need to be on top form once they get to Cairn Wood.  Stella goes back to her office, puts down her bag, and sits at her desk.  

She has an hour. It’s not enough time for a swim, or even a satisfying nap.  But it might be just enough time for a phone call.

Tanya picks up her mobile right after the first ring. “Any news?”

“Tanya, he’s told us where she is.” The words come out in a rush. Stella takes a quick breath. “He’s directing us to the location in five hours time.”

“Oh my god,” Tanya murmurs. “You’re... really going to find her.”

Neither of them says _or her body_ , but they both hear it.

“Can I see you? Before you go to get her?” Tanya asks. She sounds much more hesitant than she was a few nights ago. “I’m still at the morgue. I can’t bring myself to go home.”

“Come by now,” Stella says. “I’m in my office.”

Tanya arrives just ten minutes later, meaning she must have rushed. She’s still wearing her leather jacket, and her ponytail is loose and low at the back of her neck. Stella’s pulse quickens.

“Hi,” Tanya says. She drops her bag near the cot and sits in the chair opposite Stella’s desk. “Sorry, I just... didn’t want to be alone.”

Stella shakes her head. She smiles, just a little. “I could use the company myself. I feel like I should offer you a drink.”

Tanya chuckles. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Yes, I know.”

Tanya moves her chair a little closer to Stella’s desk. “Are you all right? You sounded a bit... you know... on the phone...”

“I’m fine,” Stella says quickly. “Sometimes after these interviews you just need a reminder that there are good people in this world.”

It’s not the whole truth, of course, but it’s not a lie, either.

Tanya blushes and looks away. She stares at the far wall, contemplating something, before looking back at Stella. “And you called me?”

“Mm.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, and Stella feels the room begin to warm. Tanya’s flush deepens, and Stella notices that her eyes are just beginning to dilate.

“I can’t stop thinking about kissing you,” Tanya blurts out. “Even with everything going on, with my _best friend_ missing, I just... I keep coming back to it. All the time.” Tanya slouches her shoulders forward and swallows hard. “Does that make me a terrible person?”

Stella gets out of her chair and crosses to the other side of her desk. She’s standing right in front of where Tanya is sitting, and Tanya is looking up at her.

“I think it makes you a human person,” Stella says.

Tanya’s breath catches in her throat. It’s suddenly clear to Stella that Tanya’s been grappling with the potency of this attraction, and the thought is erotic, but it’s also sad, somehow. That Tanya wouldn’t let herself _feel_ this.

Stella leans back on the desk, but she doesn’t break eye contact with Tanya. “I think about it too,” she admits. And she takes a deep, halting breath in.

And when she exhales, it draws Tanya to her. Tanya stands and steps in close to Stella, her hands hovering near Stella’s hips. But not close enough to touch.

And just when Stella thinks she might fly out her body just from the sheer _anticipation,_ Tanya grabs Stella’s hips and kisses her. There’s no soft prelude: as soon as Tanya opens her mouth, Stella slips her tongue inside. Stella’s arms settle around Tanya’s shoulders and Tanya crushes their bodies together and starts moving her hands up and down Stella’s back. Their lips break for a moment, and Stella immediately buries her face in Tanya’s neck, licking and sucking a line to her collarbone.

“God,” Tanya breathes. Stella slides one of her hands into Tanya’s hair and loosens her ponytail. “Stella, I...”

But Stella doesn’t let her finish the thought. She kisses Tanya roughly, coaxes out Tanya’s tongue. Stella hasn’t been this wound up from just kissing someone since, God, she can’t even remember. If she starts grinding her hips against Tanya, then she might do something fully inadvisable, like fuck her on the floor of her office right before she leads an unfamiliar team into a hastily-planned rescue mission.

Stella breaks the kiss, shakes her head. She rests her hands on Tanya’s shoulders. Tanya is fully flushed now and nearly gasping for breath. And Christ, does it look good on her.

“Stella?” Tanya asks.

Stella swallows and lets her breathing return to normal. When she’s ready, she says: “Not now. I want... I want to take my time with you.”

“Oh,” is all Tanya can say in response. Stella removes her hands from Tanya’s shoulders, and Tanya takes a step back. She flashes Stella a hesitant smile, and then her eyes shift to the floor.

“I can’t tell if I want you this badly because I want my friend back or if I just... want you this badly,” Tanya says softly.

The admission unbalances Stella. She can’t think of anything to say in response, not right away, so instead she takes Tanya’s hand and kisses her palm.

“Perhaps it’s best to just let it be,” Stella offers. The words don’t seem to register with Tanya; she’s still staring at her hand, as if the place where Stella kissed it left a mark.

Stella sighs and steps away from Tanya. Whatever this is, it appears that neither of them is quite prepared for its intensity.

“I should leave you to it,” Tanya says, dispelling some of the tension. “I’m sure you have a lot to do.”

Stella just nods in reply, and Tanya grabs her bag. But Stella can’t let her leave like that, so walks to the door and then leans against the doorframe. When Tanya reaches her, Stella tilts her head towards Tanya to get her attention.

“Listen,” Stella starts, “whatever we find when go out there, you know that I’ll be...”

Tanya cuts her off. “Yeah. I know.”

 _Here_ , Stella thinks. _I’ll be here._

And then Tanya goes.

* * *

Stella calls a morning prayer for 2:30 am, giving her and Eastwood just enough time to go over aerial maps of Cairn Wood with Ged. They’ve already sent out one helicopter, and with any luck, a heat reading will show them where Rose Stagg is.

At least, it will if she’s still alive.

They’ve divided up their on-the-ground team into four separate groups: one to secure the area, one to secure Spector, one to look for Rose with an emergency response team, operating under the assumption that she’s alive, and one to look for a grave, operating under the assumption that she’s dead.

They’ve tried to choose team leaders who have been with the investigation from the start, so Martin is leading the Spector team, McCurdy is leading the team securing the crime scene, Eastwood is leading what they’ve termed the Rose-Alive team, and Stella leading the Rose-Dead team.

“It’s like Schrodinger’s Rose,” Stella mutters to Eastwood just before they start morning prayer.

And then she’s slightly horrified when he introduces the mission as Operation Music Man: Schrodinger.

Morning prayer goes well. Everyone is surprisingly alert, and no one complains about their role in the mission. It’s mystifying until she notices Rick floating about distributing coffee to everyone. It appears that he’s bought out a local petrol station.  Good man, Rick.

From there, everything passes in blur.  People are checking in with Stella every five minutes-- verifying the timeline of Rose’s disappearance, updating her on the response vehicles available at the scene, and letting her know how long they have before Spector is permitted out of his cell.

Three hours turns into two, which turns into one.

And then they’re in prep and getting everything in order for Spector’s arrival and the journey to Cairn wood. Stella’s overseeing things, but it’s McCurdy who’s assigning specific people to specific locations and then drilling them on what they can and cannot do once they get there.

Stella grabs McCurdy just twenty minutes before they’re set to leave. “I need you to keep an eye on Martin,” Stella tells her. She keeps her voice low.

McCurdy shakes her head. “I can’t, ma’am. I’ve got my hands full on the perimeter team. We’ve just got too much ground to cover.”

Stella nods. She’s not pleased, but she understands. She knows she would get a similar answer from Mary at Control. 

There is, however, another option.

She finds Dani near the back entrance of the station, in a hallway that leads to the PSNI carpack. She’s on the Spector team, just as Stella requested, so she’s in full uniform and packing heat.

It’s her and a group of some of the more physically intimidating men in the unit. Stella notices that Dani’s keeping close to her partner, PC Stone.

“Ferrington!” Stella calls.

Ferrington rushes over. “Yes, ma’am.”

Stella moves them further down the hall so no one will hear them. “Ready to go?”

Dani smiles and nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. I need you to do something for me.”

Dani adjusts her holster and smooths down her uniform trousers. “What do you need, ma’am?”

Stella glances down the hall to make sure none of the other officers have taken an interest in their conversation. They haven’t. Stella returns her attention to Dani. “Dani, do you have my new personal number?”

“I... do.” Now it is Dani’s turn to look down the hall at the group of male officers. “What’s this about ma’am?” she whispers.

Stella takes a steadying breath. “I need you to keep an eye on DC Martin. He’s been pushing back against my authority, and frankly I don’t trust him with Spector. I need to know that someone will have my back in case things don’t go as planned.”

Dani’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “You trust me with this? With Spector?”

“You enabled Spector’s arrest,” Stella reminds her. “It follows that you are the only one I trust with Spector.”

Dani stares blankly at Stella for a moment before coming back to herself. “Okay. What do you need me to do?”

“Bring your mobile phone. If Martin does anything that isn’t _exactly_ by the book, you call me. I’ll be looking for a burial site, so my team will be moving slowly. I’ll be able to return to where you’re holding Spector if I need to.”

“All right, then,” Dani says carefully. “I guess I’m off to get my mobile phone.”

Stella touches Dani’s shoulder, and Dani stays rooted on the spot. Stella drops her voice down low, so Dani has to lean in to hear her. “Dani, listen to me. I want you in Spector’s line of sight at all times. I want him to look at you and remember just how badly he’s failed. Disobey Martin’s direct orders if you need to. I’ll make sure you won’t get in trouble. Just... remember Sarah Kay, Dani, and don’t let him look away from you.”

Dani closes her eyes and bows her head, as if demanding a moment of silence in Sarah’s memory. Stella could never deny Dani this, so she bows her head as well.  There are still incidental noises—the men talking from down the hall, the starting of engines in the carpark—but they seem to exist in another place. This place, this moment, is for Sarah.

Dani looks up and breaks the spell. Her eyes are glistening. “I’m ready ma’am.”

“Good,” says Stella. “Good luck out there, Ferrington.”

Dani nods. “You too, ma’am.”

* * *

They’re a huge parade heading out to Cairn Wood. There are four helicopters in the air, at least ten squad cars, and then four bulletproof unmarked cars. One of them, a van, carries Spector.

Stella’s sharing a car with Eastwood. “Do you think anyone’s made bets?” he asks her.

Stella frowns. “Bets on what?”

“Whether or not she’s alive. Whether or not we’ll find her.”

Stella scoffs and then leans forward so she can get a better look at the GPS system. “Well, if they weren’t before, they are now. Operation Schrodinger.”

“All units take track on left,” Mary says over the radio.

One by one, the cars drive off the asphalt and onto the dirt road. At this point, they’re completely reliant on Spector to instruct them on where to go.

“Do you think this is really where she is?” Eastwood asks.

Stella suppresses a shudder.  “I don’t know. But I do think this is our only chance of finding her alive.”

The cars ahead of them start pulling into a small clearing.  It’s just enough room to fit the Spector van, a few security cars, and one or two emergency response vehicles.  Stella and Eastwood’s car parks right on the dirt road.

Spector is removed from the van.  He’s secured directly to DC Martin’s person with handcuffs.  His feet are cuffed to one of the police vans.

Stella looks around for PC Ferrington, and she sighs in relief when she sees Dani get out of one of patrol cars and take a position around the perimeter. She’s directly opposite Spector.

 _Good girl,_ Stella thinks.

Eastwood sidles up the Spector.  His hands are in his pockets, as if he’s facing down a villain in a Western. “So,” he starts “where exactly are we going?”

“200 yards in. Just keep going forward,” Spector replies.

“And what exactly are we going to find there?”

Spector doesn’t say anything. Eastwood lingers near him for a few moments before he turns around and addresses his team. “All right, we’re driving 200 yards in. Let’s find her.”

The EMS vehicles whir to life and shoot in the forest. Eastwood’s team follows them in two patrol cars.

Stella knows what she has to do next.  She flags over the PCs, detectives, and forensics staff who are tasked with looking for Rose’s remains.  A few of the human scent dogs gather near Stella’s feet and start sniffing at her shoes.

“All right,” she calls out. “200 yards forward. We’re going to be going in seven groups, one for each human scent dog. I want everyone in Tyvek as this is a crime scene. I don’t want a single stone left unturned, and I am, quite frankly, prepared to be here all day if we need to be. If you find anything resembling remains, radio in immediately. Understood?”

There are nods around her. Several officers are already halfway into Tyvek suits, and the dog wranglers are going through whatever their standard procedure is for preparing the dogs. Someone hands Stella a Tyvek suit, and she climbs into it. She snaps the latex gloves hard against her wrists.

They go in.

It’s a slow trek. None of the dogs seem to finding anything, and that is both a great frustration and an immense relief.  But there is nothing from the EMS vehicles, either.

After about fifteen minutes, Stella’s mobile rings. She has to fish it out from under her Tyvek suit and remove her surgical mask.  “Gibson.”

“It’s Ferrington, ma’am.” Dani’s voice is hushed and raspy. “You told me to call about Martin?”

Stella stops dead in her tracks. “What’s happening?”

“Spector and Martin are talking. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I... heard your name. They’re talking about you.”

Stella takes a deep breath in, and then exhales. “Anyway you can get closer?”

“Not without breaking the formation, ma’am,” Dani replies.

Stella cups the phone close to her face and drops her voice to a whisper. “I need you break formation, Dani.  I’ll protect you from disciplinary action. Just get closer.”

Stella hears some heavy shuffling and then some shouting on the other end of the phone line. And then two male voices. Quiet at first, but then a bit louder.

“You want to fuck her.” That’s Spector.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Martin.

“No, no, you can tell,” Spector continues. “There’s something going on between you.”

A long beat.

“Can I give you some advice?” Spector tries.

Martin grumbles, and Stella can’t make out all the words. But it sounds like: “I don’t need it.”

Spector laughs. “So you admit it. You do want to fuck her.”

“Is anyone doing anything to shut him up?” Stella hisses into her phone.

Dani doesn’t say anything back. Dani’s phone is probably far from her ear; she probably can’t even hear Stella.  Stella takes a breath and closes her eyes. A straitjacket, a mask, a fucking _muzzle_ if they needed it. There are so many ways they could have done better.

Martin speaks again. “Not what I said.”

“Let’s assume you do want to fuck her,” Spector muses. “How do you imagine it? Do you want her on top?”

Another silence. Stella plays with the band of the surgical mask that’s dangling near her ear. Snaps the elastic lightly against her cheek.

“No, I don’t think so,” Spector says. “Don’t want her in control. Want her taking orders from you, begging for you. Do you take her from behind, with her whole body pressed into the mattress? Do you handcuff her wrists to the headboard? Do you think she likes that?  Do you think under all of that English superiority that’s what she really wants?”

“Dani,” Stella rasps into the phone. She knows Dani can’t hear, but she says it anyway. “ _Dani_.”

Spector laughs again. “That’s how I see it, too. We want the same thing, you and I. Except only one of us is strong enough to get it.”

And then an anguished yell from the other end of the line makes Stella almost drop her phone. She recognizes the sound: it’s the cry an animal might make as it lunges against its enemy. Her radio crackles and a male voice yells _we need backup! The Spector team needs backup_! Without thinking, Stella pulls her Tyvek hood down and starts running toward Spector and his team.

She can’t move quickly since she’s still holding her phone to her ear.  She can hear chains rattling and fists being swung and making contact.  A howl of pain. There are overlapping voices screaming _someone just subdue Spector already, someone fucking..._ and then the sound cuts out and all Stella hears is a dial tone.

She drops her phone and reaches for her radio. “This is DSI Gibson. Can someone please tell me _what the fuck_ is happening over there?”

Someone shouts “Spector’s attacking DC Ma—“

A shot rings out. Another.

Stella takes a deep breath in. Counts to ten. Lets it go.

And then she starts running.

When she arrives at the clearing, the scene is a mess. She can barely make out individuals in the sea of neon uniforms. They’re all surrounding Spector’s van.

Stella pushes her way in. At first she meets resistance, but once the uniforms realize who she is, they make a path for her.

Martin and Spector have been unattached. Martin is lying on the ground with several emergency responders giving attention to his arm and neck. Stella looks him up and down. His neck has cuff-shaped welts all around, and it looks like his wrist and elbow are both broken. Clearly, Spector had twisted the cuffs and attempted to strangle Martin. But only after Martin attacked him first.

She shifts her eyes slowly to the van.

Spector is lying in Dani Ferrington’s lap. They’re both covered in his blood, which is still gushing from two bullet wounds: one in the gut, and one in the heart.

Dani looks up at Stella.  Her face is smeared with blood and tears. “We’ve lost him, ma’am,” she says. “We’ve lost him.”

And suddenly it’s all too clear that Dani fired the fatal shots.

Stella opens her mouth to say something, but no sound comes out. There are so many orders she has to give, and so many ways she has to at least _try_ to clean up this godawful mess, but she’s frozen in place.

Spector’s dead. Spector’s _dead._

A few people from forensics come to try to claim Spector’s body from Dani, but they can’t quite get her out of the way. Eventually, someone gently pushes her away from Spector and then leads her to one of medical trucks. The uniforms scatter.

And then, in the distance, sirens begin to blare. The sound of EMS vehicles. From that far away, it can only mean one thing.

They found Rose alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping life will be cooperative now because the next chapter is the one I've been dying to write *rubs hands together*


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stella surveys the damage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penultimate chapter! Ahh! 
> 
> There's some racism mentioned in this chapter that might be triggering, and a sexual assault is alluded to. 
> 
> But the biggest warning is actually a happy one: lots of explicit sexual content in this chapter. NSFW by a lot. ~~Stella finally gets some.~~

The clock in Jim Burns’s office is three minutes slow.

Stella can’t believe she didn’t notice it before. The case must have distracted her, Spector must have distracted her. Well, she thinks. That won’t be a problem anymore.

Jim’s ten minutes late now.  Stella leans forward in her chair and places her lukewarm coffee on top of Jim’s desk. She takes a deep breath in and then stares into the Styrofoam cup.

Rose is alive. Suffering from hypoxia and severe dehydration, but still.  Alive. And according to Tanya, likely to make a slow but complete recovery.

A physical one, at least. Stella closes her eyes and remembers the picture Eastwood sent her: Rose had carved “I love you” into her left forearm while she was locked in that trunk. She’ll probably have those scars for the rest of her life.

Stella takes the coffee off of Jim’s desk and takes a sip. Ghastly. She quickly drains the whole thing. She’s starting the rip the Styrofoam cup apart when Jim finally comes into the room.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he says gruffly. “I’ve been doing damage control.”

“I think we all are,” Stella mutters.  She tosses the cup in the garbage bin and sits back in her chair. “What a fucking massive cock-up.”

Jim sighs and drops a huge stack of files on his desk. “I fired Martin. Was loath to do it, but I didn’t have a choice. Eastwood wanted to do the honors, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Glen’s still recovering from Spector’s attack.  I thought it would be better if I had a chat with him. I think he took it well, considering.”

Stella acknowledges all of this with a grim nod. She’s just barely keeping her eyes open. It’s noon on Wednesday and the last time she slept was early Tuesday morning.

She closes her eyes and rubs at her forehead. “PC Ferrington.”

“Still with Forensics,” Jim says carefully. “She gave a statement. She admitted to firing both shots, and the other PCs on the ground corroborated her account. We’re waiting on autopsy results from Spector, but we’re expecting that they’ll just tell us what we already know. That Ferrington shot to kill.”

Stella starts to speak, but her voice breaks before she can get the words out. She clears her throat and tries again. “She was witnessing a dangerous criminal trying to kill a fellow officer. In her position, you or I would have shot to kill, too.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jim says. He drums his fingers against his desk and stares at the stack of files. When he looks up at Stella, his eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. “Some of us can use firearms with restraint.”

Stella wants to ask him what the hell he’s on about, but then she realizes: _shoot to kill._ Jim must be thinking of the alleged shoot to kill policy during the Troubles. Stella closes her eyes and tries to think through her exhausted haze: in the early 80s, members of the British Army and Royal Ulster Constabulary were accused of assassinating IRA operatives in lieu of arresting them, on informal orders from their superiors. The investigations into those accusations were never made public, so it’s still a shadow over the PSNI’s head.

Jim’s probably seen those confidential files. He’s too far up the food chain not to.

“Jim, due respect, but we’re not in the 80s anymore. I know you’re still feeling the consequences of that time. I understand that. But Dani... PC Ferrington was reacting to a situation that was _nothing_ like the ones you’re thinking of. She saw that DC Martin’s life was in danger, and she acted accordingly.”

Jim studies the floor. “Ferrington said in her statement that she was receiving orders from you.”

Stella feels her body snap to attention: the muscles in her shoulders tighten, and her back seems to straighten of its own accord. “I asked her to keep me up-to-date on the Spector team. I had my concerns about Martin, as I had expressed to you. I wanted to know right away if Martin strayed off course.”

“Stella, I have to ask,” Jim starts, “did you order Ferrington to fire on Spector?”

“No.”

“Would you swear to that under oath?”

“I would.”  

Jim nods. “I’d clear your calendar if I were you. There’s going to be an official inquiry on this case. You may be in Belfast for a few more weeks.”

“As is fair,” Stella says. “But I can only take leadership responsibility for the investigation until before Spector’s arrest. As far as I can tell, you never officially reinstated me as SIO.”

Jim grips the edge of the desk. “You acted as an SIO after Spector’s arrest.”

“I didn’t put Martin out there, Jim.”

There is a long, heavy silence. Jim looks out the window on to the Belfast streets. “Spector will never have to answer for his crimes,” he says. “We’ve failed. We all have. There was no justice done here.”

“No justice indeed,” Stella echoes.

Stella sighs. She simply doesn’t have the energy for Jim right now, so gets up from her chair and goes to the door. But she lingers near the doorframe before she leaves.

“Rose Stagg is alive,” Stella tells Jim. “She’s alive, and she might even be okay.”

“Well, that’s something,” he says, and sighs. “One thing we didn’t completely fuck up.”

Stella feels her cheeks start to burn, and there’s a slight tremor starting in her left hand. She makes a fist. “No, Jim,” she says, fighting to keep her voice level, “Rose Stagg survived, and that’s everything.”

She wants to punctuate her point somehow, maybe slam the door on her way out. But she’s so fucking _tired_.

So she just walks away.

* * *

Stella expects her office to be empty when she returns. There’s a text from Eastwood— _I’m going home to get some sleep and I suggest you do the same._ She knows that it will take time to process the crime scene, get the necessary statements, and then get the full write-up from Spector’s autopsy. And then... what’s left for them to do?

So Stella intends to collapse in her office for a few hours. She’ll be available should anyone need her, and then she can go back to her hotel and get some proper sleep.

Except that her office is already occupied. Tanya and Sally Ann are sitting in the chairs opposite Stella’s desk, sipping tea and conversing in low voices.

“You’re going to have to travel,” Tanya says. “I can give you some names in England, but if you’re thinking Scotland I’m not sure I can help you.”

“Where in England?” Sally Ann asks. She takes a long draught of her tea.

“Manchester. I have an old friend who’s a gynecologist there. I know she works closely with the abortion providers at the Marie Stopes clinic. I can put you in touch, if you like.”

Stella steps into the room, and both women turn to look at her. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Stella says.

Tanya offers her a sweet half-smile. “Not at all. We are in _your_ office. Turns out we were both looking for you.”

“This was supposed to be your tea,” Sally Ann admits, a bit sheepishly.

“Don’t worry,” Stella says to Sally Ann, waving off her implied apology. “I was hoping to see you, actually.” Stella sits down at her desk, folds her hands together, and leans forward.  Sally Ann’s eyes widen, like a schoolgirl who thinks she’s in trouble. Stella sighs. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Oh,” Sally Ann replies softly. “Well, I... it’s a lot. To take in. I was just coming to terms with what he had done. And now he’s gone.”

An uncomfortable silence settles between the three of them. Tanya reaches for Sally Ann’s hand and pats it quickly before pulling away. Sally Ann looks at her and smiles weakly.

Sally Ann looks down, and Stella sees a few tears fall down her cheeks. “Tanya’s been helping me figure out what to do about the pregnancy.”

God, Stella had almost forgotten. “You’re thinking of traveling to Manchester to terminate it?”

Sally Ann nods. “Gail had given me a name of someone in Glasgow, so I guess I am just weighing my options. I think I, um, I definitely need to end it.”

It takes Stella few moments to match the name Gail to DC McNally. She remembers McNally’s first interview with Sally, the aggressive questions she asked about Paul’s reaction to Sally Ann’s pregnancy. She knew then that it was personal for DC McNally. So Stella’s not surprised to learn that McNally has, in all likelihood, had an abortion, but she is surprised that she was so forthcoming with Sally Ann. It’s a trust that Stella can’t quite fathom.

“I think you have more options than you know,” Tanya says, breaking Stella’s reverie. “Dr. Hillian, my contact in Manchester, volunteers sometimes for a group that helps pay for Irish women to travel to the UK for abortion services. I think they provide housing, too, if you need.”

Stella hums under her breath. “The abortion support network. I’ve worked with them as well. They’re always strapped for cash, but I suspect they’ll pull out all the stops to try to help you.”

Sally Ann smiles, genuinely this time. “You really don’t need...”

“It’s just a phone call,” Tanya says, mirroring Sally Ann’s smile. “It’s nothing for me to reach out to her, and it could make your life so much easier. And really, anything to help.”

Sally Ann tries to respond, but she can’t find the words she needs. Tanya’s generosity has astonished her. Stella wonders if Tanya had introduced herself as the lead pathologist, if Sally Ann knows that Tanya performed the autopsies on all of the women Paul killed. Stella suspects she might.

But Sally Ann certainly doesn’t know that Paul stalked Tanya and broke into her home, or that Tanya is a good friend of Rose’s. And Stella has no intention of telling her.

“Thank you,” Sally Ann says. She sets down her empty mug on Stella’s desk, and then she lets her head fall into her hands.

Tanya reaches out and rubs Sally Ann’s upper back, just between her shoulder blades. It’s a slow, calming rhythm: back and forth, back and forth. Stella knows gesture is not intended for her, but she finds comfort in watching it. Back and forth, back and forth.

Stella feels herself nodding off to sleep, but the sound of the door opening wakes her up with a jolt. Sally Ann has gotten up and is bounding into the bullpen, and Tanya is not far behind.  Tanya is beckoning for Stella to join her at the whiteboard.

Stella gets up right away, but she does takes a moment to look around and try to discern what’s happening. There are two people standing just outside the entrance of the bullpen: a young man in plainclothes and Olivia Spector.

 _Fuck_.

Stella rushes to join Tanya at the whiteboard. They need to hide the board, otherwise Olivia will see some of their notes, most of which are about her dad, and several of the more graphic crime scene photos.

“Does it flip over?” Tanya asks quietly.

Stella nods, and the two of them quickly move to opposite ends of the whiteboard. “On the count of three,” Stella says. “One, two...”

“Three,” they say together, and then they flip it easily. Tanya grabs the bottom of the board to steady it, and Stella collects a few of the photos that had fallen to the floor. Once they’re sure the board is secure and Olivia won’t see anything she doesn’t need to see, they cross the bullpen to see why Olivia is here.

Sally Ann is kneeling in front of daughter and speaking to her in a lilting, high-pitched whisper. “These people are just trying to help you, sweetheart. I know you don’t know them, and I know that this is scary, but they are trying to make this less scary for you, okay?”

“When can we go home?” Olivia asks.

“Soon, love. So soon,” says Sally Ann. She tucks a stray piece of hair under Olivia’s ear. “Tonight I can take you and Liam to Grandma’s house, how does that sound?”

“And when can I see Daddy?”

Stella sucks in a quick breath of air. That must be why the officer (he must be a DC in some department somewhere) has brought Olivia here: they want Sally Ann there when they tell Olivia and Liam that Paul is dead.

Sally Ann is struggling to come up with a response to Olivia’s question. “Sweetheart...” she starts, and then she pauses. Olivia’s eyes go wide.

Stella holds her breath.

Just at the moment, Dr. Lo comes running into the bullpen. “Sorry, Sally Ann, I am so sorry,” she says, quickly kneeling next to Sally Ann so she can address Olivia. “Olivia, you’ve been so, _so_ good at listening to us and cooperating with us.  We were actually going to bring your mum to you, and it was going to be a surprise, but it looks like John here goofed and brought you here instead. We’re so sorry. Can you forgive us for messing up?”

Olivia looks at John, and then looks back at Dr. Lo. “Okay,” she tells Dr. Lo. “But are you going to ask me more questions?”

Dr. Lo sighs theatrically. “I think we’re done with questions for now. But I have to tell you, Olivia, you were so brave to sit with me and answer all of those questions. Wasn’t she, Sally Ann?”

Sally Ann plasters a huge smile on her face. “So brave.”

Olivia doesn’t react to the praise. She eyes her mum and Dr. Lo skeptically, and then raises her head and sees Stella and Tanya. “Mummy, who are they?”

Stella throws Tanya a nervous glance. Tanya mouths _I’ve got this_ , and turns to Olivia. “I’m Dr. Tanya Reed-Smith,” she says. “I’m a scientist. I help the police with their work. And this is Stella.”

Stella cuts in before Tanya can make something up for her. “I’m a police officer.”

Olivia furrows her brown in confusion. “ _You’re_ a police officer?”

“I am.” Stella takes a step forward, but she doesn’t kneel to Olivia’s level. “And you’re Olivia?”

Olivia’s eyes become hard, steely. She brings her feet together, as if someone has instructed her to stand at attention. As if someone has told her that Stella is a threat. “I’m Olivia,” she says. “Are you going to ask me questions?”

Stella shakes her head. “No.”

“Do you know when I can see my Daddy?”

Stella starts to move towards Olivia, but she hesitates. She stays where she is, rooted on the spot, and meets Olivia’s big, scared eyes.

Suddenly, she wants to tell Olivia everything. She wants to get down on the ground, take both of Olivia’s hands, and tell Olivia the truth about her father. Someone has to, and Stella wants it to be _her_.

The urge passes. Stella takes a breath. “I don’t know,” she says. And then, as an afterthought, “I’m sorry.”

Olivia nods, and her eyes narrow. She can tell that Stella’s lying.

Dr. Lo shuffles in front of Olivia and gets her attention again. “Why don’t we go back to where we were and have a little chat with your mum and Liam, hmm?  It can be your turn to ask me questions, how does that sound?”

Olivia’s smile is small and tight. “Okay.”

Dr. Lo and Sally Ann start leading Olivia out of the bullpen. Just before they reach the hall, Sally Ann picks up Olivia and hoists her up into her arms. Olivia squeals in surprise and delight.

“Are you still needed here for the investigation?” Tanya asks from somewhere behind her. Stella acknowledges the question with a slight shake of her head, but she doesn’t turn around. She’s still watching Olivia.

“Someone will probably need something,” Stella replies. Sally Ann puts Olivia down, and Olivia’s smile starts to fade.  “But now’s as good a time as any to get some rest.”

“Do you want to come to mine?” Tanya asks. Her voice is quaking, she must be nervous. “The girls don’t come back until tomorrow afternoon. Not for, I mean, you can sleep if you like, or—“

“Yes,” Stella says. And then she smiles. “Of course. Yes.”

Sally Ann picks Olivia up again, and Olivia rests her head on her mum’s shoulder. She closes her eyes for a moment, and when she opens them again, she looks directly at Stella.

And Stella looks back. The two of them watch each other until Sally Ann turns a corner and Olivia is out of sight.

* * *

Stella wakes up with a start. She doesn’t know where she is, and she can’t quite remember falling asleep. She blinks a few times and the room comes into focus: high windows, thick brown and red curtains, polished wood finishes. She rolls over and the muslin couch cover moves with her.

Tanya’s. She’s at Tanya’s.

Stella fumbles for her phone; she has no idea what time it is, and no idea how long she’s slept. Her hand smacks into a coffee table.

Stella curses loudly and starts sucking on her knuckles. She hopes she hasn’t woken Tanya, but sure enough she hears quick footsteps coming down the stairs.

“I’m okay,” Stella calls up. “Don’t get up!”

But Tanya appears in the living room just a few seconds later. “You’re up,” she says. “You okay?”

Stella looks up from her bruised hand, and she feels her mouth drop open. Tanya’s wearing soft grey pyjama pants with a matching top, and Stella can see the outline of her nipples through the cotton. Her hair is sticking up a bit at the back, and she didn’t bother removing her eye make-up properly so what’s left of it is smudged under her eyes. She’s so fucking stunning, and Stella can barely catch her breath. Eventually, she catches Tanya’s eye and nods.

“I’m fine,” she says. “What time is it?”

Tanya shifts from one foot to the other. “Almost nine pm. You fell asleep as soon as you sat down on the couch, and I figured you needed it. I... um... I had food delivered. If you’re hungry. It’s in the fridge.”

Stella realizes that yes, she is hungry, famished, even. She’s not sure she remembers the last time she sat down for a full meal. Tanya reheats the Chicken Tikka Masala and Vegetable Biriyani she’s ordered, and the two of them sit at her kitchen table and eat in comfortable silence. Tanya pours them both water and Stella downs the tall glass in one gulp.

Stella pants and sputters as she finishes drinking. When she catches her breath, she sees that Tanya is looking at her chest, watching it rise and fall. She’s trying to be discreet about it, but she’s chewing her lip and it gives her away. It’s such a sweet, obvious little tell.

Stella leans across the table and smiles. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Tanya stares into her lap. Stella can see her twisting her hands together under the table. “How much would you hate me if I told you I’m glad he’s dead?”

“Not at all,” Stella says. “He can’t come back to your home if he’s dead. He can’t stalk your children. And he can’t hurt Rose.”

Tanya sighs, shakes her head. Her cheeks are reddening. “Not just that. He read your diary, so he, um, he knew what you dreamt. The kind of dreams you had. And he couldn’t _not_ know that, not matter how long a time he spent in jail. And I like that he, um, doesn’t know anymore.”

Tanya can’t quite look Stella in the eye when she admits to this, and Stella can barely keep herself from smirking. She stands up and leans back against the kitchen counter. “Do _you_ want to know?”

Tanya swallows. “Yes?”

“Yes?” Stella echoes teasingly. She inclines her head towards the space next to her against the counter.

Tanya gets up and stands next to her. “You don’t have to...”

“I’m riding pillion on your bike,” Stella starts. “You’re taking me to the morgue but we’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere. We’re in a desert. You stop the bike, and then you turn around to face me. My hand brushes your thigh when you move. I keep it there longer than I should and you let me.”

“And then what?” Tanya asks in a breathless rush.

Stella smiles, and then she turns around so she’s facing Tanya and pushing her back into the counter.  She runs her hand along the curve of Tanya’s hip. “I ask you if it’s okay. And you nod. So I move my hand further up your thigh.” Stella lets her hand drift from Tanya’s hip to her stomach.

Tanya gasps. “Stella...”

“Until I’m touching you,” Stella whispers into Tanya’s ear. And as she does, she slides her hand between Tanya’s legs and cups her over her thin trousers. Tanya doesn’t make any sound, but she does lean into Stella’s touch. Stella rubs in rough circles, and Tanya drops her head on to Stella’s shoulder.

“Fuck, Stella,” she breathes.

Stella hums, and she touches her lips to Tanya’s ear. The contact’s so light she doubts Tanya can feel it, especially now that Stella’s rubbing harder, more deliberately.  The trousers are thin enough that she can feel Tanya getting wet.

Stella stops her hand and moves it up to Tanya’s waistband. She dances her fingertips over the elastic, teasing, asking.

Tanya lifts her head and looks Stella in the eye. “Yes,” she says. “Stella. _Yes._ ”

Stella can’t get her hand inside Tanya’s trousers fast enough. She moves two fingers over Tanya’s clit, up and down, and then circles it quickly. Tanya grabs the edge of the counter to try to steady herself, but her hips are gravitating towards Stella’s hand. Stella thrusts two fingers in and curls them.

Tanya presses their hips together and throws her arms around Stella’s neck. “There, _fuck_.”

Stella curls her fingers again, and again, and then faster. She smiles to herself as Tanya starts making breathy, high-pitched sounds, but then she’s caught off guard when Tanya starts kissing her neck, her cheek, and then her lips.  They’re not kissing, just sucking and licking each other’s lips, and Stella can feel her face start to flush. She’s tempted to start touching herself with her free hand.

Instead she twists her thumb to Tanya’s clit. She’s rewarded with a loud gasp and a slight whimper as Tanya comes hard around Stella’s fingers. Stella pulls back so she can watch Tanya’s face as she climaxes: her eyes are squeezed shut and her mouth is opening and closing as she pants rhythmically through it.

“Oh my god,” Tanya whispers as she comes down. “My God.”

Stella touches their cheeks together. “I wanted to get you to a bedroom, but you made it very difficult for me.”

Tanya’s still panting, but she’s able to chuckle under her breath. “That was... more intense than I expected.”

Stella raises an eyebrow. “That was barely the start of it.” She pulls Tanya away from the counter and leads her up the stairs.

When they reach the top, Stella pauses. She realizes she doesn’t know which room is Tanya’s, and she doesn’t want to accidentally bring Tanya to her girls’ room. So she waits for Tanya to lead her.

But Tanya doesn’t take them to the bedroom, not right away. They stand at the top of the steps and study each other for a long moment. Stella can only imagine how she must look: her eyes are clouded over with lust and she can feel the blood gathering in her cheeks.

Stella takes a step forward and ghosts her hands over Tanya’s hips. “Bedroom? Is that all right?”

Tanya takes a long breath in, and then exhales heavily. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” she admits in a rush. “And you _clearly_ do, and I just...”

Stella shushes her gently. “It’s just me. I’ll be here to help you through. And if you want to stop, we stop, no questions asked, no explanations needed. All right?”

Tanya nods, and then leans in to kiss Stella. It’s meant to be a soft peck, but Stella lets her lips linger on Tanya’s for a moment too long, and soon enough they’re kissing properly. There’s no urgency in it, just an intoxicating sweetness. Stella shivers.

“My bedroom is the last one on the right,” Tanya says into Stella’s mouth.

As Stella follows Tanya in, she realizes that she _did_ know where Tanya’s bedroom was; she had seen it on the surveillance camera when Spector broke into her home. She pushes that from her mind and kisses Tanya again, this time harder. She palms Tanya’s breasts over her pyjama top and feels Tanya’s nipples harden.

Stella runs her fingertips right near the bottom edge of Tanya’s shirt. “May I?” she asks.

Tanya nods, and as she does she reaches for the bottom of Stella’s black cotton blouse and tugs it over Stella’s head. Stella’s clothes still smell like the forest. If Tanya notices, she doesn’t say anything.

Once their shirts are off, Stella gestures for Tanya to sit at the edge of the bed. Stella kneels on the floor so she’s eye level with Tanya’s breasts, and then she sucks one of the hard nipples into her mouth.

Tanya immediately moves her hand to the back of Stella’s head to urge her on. Her fingers draw little circles on the nape of Stella’s neck, and Stella’s skin warms where Tanya touches it. After a few more moments of kissing and licking, Stella feels Tanya guide her head up. Stella meets Tanya’s eyes and smiles.

They collapse back on the bed side by side, facing each other. Tanya reaches around and unclasps Stella’s bra, and then weighs Stella’s breasts in her hands.  She presses the bottom of her palm into Stella’s breast and then pinches the nipple between her thumb and forefinger.

“Fuck,” Stella whispers.

Tanya does this again, and again, until Stella nearly loses her head and forgets that she is the one meant to be guiding Tanya. Stella removes Tanya’s hand from her breast, kisses her quickly on the lips, and shifts Tanya so that she’s flat on her back.

Stella leans in and nips at Tanya’s neck. “Do you know what I fantasize about?” Stella asks.

Tanya’s breath catches in her throat. “What?”

Stella smiles. “Going down on you.”

“You... fantasize about that?”

Stella hums in assent and then kisses Tanya’s cheek. “May I?”

Tanya turns her head to look at Stella. She’s chewing her lip again. “Yeah,” she says.

Stella kisses her way down Tanya’s body until she is kneeling on the floor between Tanya’s legs. She grabs Tanya’s hips and pulls them to the edge of the bed. She eases Tanya’s trousers and knickers down her legs, sets them to the side, and then kisses the inside of Tanya’s thighs.

Stella knows what to do: a long lick to start out, and then concentrated, steady pressure on the clit with the lips and tongue. A finger, perhaps two, inside.  But she’s waited so long to find out what Tanya _tastes_ like that she finds herself starting slowly, trying to savor it.

Tanya keens above her, and she realizes that she’s being a terrible tease. So she sucks gently, and then harder, at Tanya’s clit, and curls two fingers inside her. Tanya’s thighs tremble around Stella’s ears, and Stella can’t help but pause for a moment to look up at her. Her head is thrown back, her mouth is gaping open, and her hands are sliding up and down the sheets, trying to find something the hold on to. Her entire upper body is flushed.

“Stella?” Tanya pants.

Stella is suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to make Tanya come, and come hard, and come _now,_ so she immediately returns to her task. She licks in steady, even strokes and thrusts her fingers faster until Tanya’s whimpers become full-throated moans. Tanya gasps Stella’s name as she comes.

Stella leans back on her heels and licks her lips. Sweet, she thinks. She gives Tanya a few moments to recover before joining her back on the bed.

“Better than the fantasy,” Stella murmurs, and then she leans in to kiss Tanya.

But Tanya puts her finger on Stella’s lips. Stella’s eyes widen as she thinks perhaps Tanya doesn’t like to be kissed after this act, but Tanya just smiles and starts giggling.

“You’re a mess,” she says, and wipes some of the wetness on Stella’s chin away with her thumb.  And then she kisses her.

When they break apart, Tanya drops her eyes to the zipper on Stella’s trousers.  Tanya takes a deep, steadying breath, and then carefully undoes the zipper. She tries to pull Stella’s trousers down her legs, but they get stuck.

Stella tries to help her by kicking her trousers off, but she ends up kicking Tanya’s ankles instead.

“God, sorry,” Stella breathes.

Tanya chuckles. “’S all right.”

They eventually do get Stella’s trousers off. Tanya runs her hand over Stella’s bare stomach, and it’s so slow and deliberate that Stella almost flinches. When Tanya reaches the waistband of Stella’s underwear, she pauses, looking at Stella with uncertain eyes.

“I want to touch you,” she whispers.

Stella sucks in a quick breath of air; she hadn’t anticipated the effect Tanya’s admission would have on her. She holds Tanya’s gaze as she gently grasps Tanya’s wrist and eases it below the elastic. She guides Tanya’s finger to her clit, and Tanya’s eyes widen.

Stella’s eyes search Tanya’s face. “What?”

“You’re _so_ wet.” Tanya starts quick, tight circles with her finger.

Stella hisses. “I am.”

“Because of me?”

 _You have no idea_ , Stella thinks, but Tanya has started licking her neck so she just moans in response.

Tanya keeps circling Stella’s clit, fumbling a bit but always recovering quickly.  Stella wants to bring her own hand down and thrust her fingers inside herself, but then Tanya glides her finger up and down Stella’s clit and Stella’s eyes roll back into her head.

Stella snakes her arm around Tanya’s back and brings her closer. Tanya keeps playing with Stella’s clit, and Stella’s reminded of being fourteen and seeking out her own pleasure for the first time. Masturbating in the bathroom stall after swim practice, and wondering if the other girls ever did the same.

Stella can hear herself making soft keening sounds. She can feel that she’s close, so close but not...

And then Tanya moves her head down and starts tonguing one of Stella’s nipples. And then the other. And then she sucks one into her mouth and gives it a little bite.

“ _Fuck_ , I’m...” Stella sputters, and then she comes, hard, for what feels like nearly a minute.

When Stella opens her eyes, she sees that Tanya’s smirking. “All right?” Tanya asks sweetly.

Stella doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she brings Tanya’s face down to hers and kisses her, thrusts her tongue into Tanya’s mouth.

They just kiss for a little bit. Tanya cards her fingers through Stella’s hair, and Stella rubs circles into the small of Tanya’s back. It’s a few minutes before they part, and even then it is with some reluctance.

Tanya sighs and rolls on to her back. “You’re the first since... well, since I left Ian.”

Stella moves on to her side so she can see Tanya’s face, but she keeps a bit of distance between them. “Not what you expected, I imagine?”

Tanya smiles. “Not quite. But... if I’m really honest, if I really search myself, it’s not a huge surprise.”

Stella raises her eyebrows. “Oh?”

“When I first got to Belfast, there was a lab tech,” Tanya starts carefully, “She was working on an advanced degree, and I had just started my training as a pathologist. I didn’t have any friends in Belfast, so I thought what I was feeling was, I don’t know, an intense, physical desire for friendship.”

Stella barks a laugh. “Is that what it’s called?”

Tanya flushes and then buries her head in a pillow.

Stella reaches out and smoothes a calming hand over Tanya’s back. “Don’t be embarrassed,” she says. “Come on.”

Tanya eventually rolls over and faces Stella. She opens her mouth to speak, but then reconsiders, mulling over her words as she traces patterns on the duvet.

“When did you know?” she finally asks.

Stella glances at Tanya’s breasts, then her lips, and then looks her in the eye. “Know what?”

“That you liked women?”

Stella rolls onto her back. She starts talking before she’s really aware of it, before she recognizes what she’s revealing.

“I was fifteen,” she says. “And I did everything with this girl from the football team named Emmy. She had moved to London from Liverpool a few years before, and we were completely inseparable. She had this... beautiful thick Northern accent, so when she threatened to beat boys up, they took her seriously. Sometimes she made a show of protecting me, even though I said I didn’t need it. But truth be told, I liked it. And I thought that every girl wanted to kiss their best friend sometimes. But then it became all the time. And by the time I realized, I was in much, much too deep.”

Stella turns to look at Tanya, and a beat passes. “An intense, physical desire for friendship,” Tanya repeats, enunciating every word. “Did you ever tell her?”

“No,” Stella says. It comes out heavier and raspier than she intended. “No, I never told her.”

Tanya sighs; she seems to understand that this is the end of this particular conversation. She gets up and fetches a big tee shirt from her wardrobe. “Do you want something to wear to bed?” Tanya asks.

Stella’s bag is downstairs, and she knows her pyjamas are in there. But she feels too warm and too comfortable to bother. “No, I’m fine.”

Tanya tosses the shirt over her head and puts her knickers back on. She goes to the bathroom to wash, and when she returns, she turns down the bed and gets them both settled under the covers. She kisses Stella twice: once on the cheek, and once on the lips.

Stella takes a deep breath, holds it. Lets it go. “Are you going to visit Rose tomorrow?” she asks.

“No,” Tanya whispers. “She’s not in a good enough way, not yet. I’ll check in with Tom tomorrow.  Besides, the girls come home tomorrow after school.”

The girls. Stella had forgotten. “Oh. Right. I can...”

“Leave, stay, whatever you want to do, Stella,” Tanya replies, and then she yawns. “I have no problem with you meeting the girls, so long as you’re up for it.” She yawns again. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, when I’m not losing consciousness. Good night.”

Tanya rolls over and goes to sleep almost immediately. Stella glances at Tanya’s nightstand: no dream journal. She stares at the ceiling and counts her breaths until she finally falls asleep.

* * *

Stella wakes up caked in sweat. She reaches out for her journal and instead touches Tanya’s cotton tee shirt. She immediately withdraws her hand. God, she can’t wake Tanya up. Not for this.

She pads down the stairs as quietly as she can, grabs her bag, and throws on her pyjamas. She surveys the room and sighs. Two academics once shared this house; there must be pen and paper nearby. She opens all the drawers in the kitchen before she finds what she’s looking for, and she takes the pad of paper and pen into the nearest bathroom and locks the door behind her.

She begins to write:

_I’m swimming in the ocean with Emmy. We’re racing. I’m going at half-pace because she’s competitive and wants to win, and I’m willing to indulge her. We’re stopping at the buoy that marks the end of the safe swim area. But there are no lifeguards, and no other people swimming: there is no safe swim area.  Even at half-pace I beat her to the buoy. When she gets there and sees that she’s lost, she starts to yell. But she’s not yelling about the race._

_what the FUCK Stella_

_I told you what HAPPENED Stella_

_you didn’t BELIEVE me Stella_

_your dad drove me home alone again and you LET HIM Stella_

_you weren’t there when I NEEDED you Stella_

_you were too busy SHOVING DICKS IN YOUR MOUTH Stella_

_you fucking bitch_

_don’t you EVER come back here again_

_She’s so consumed with rage that she forgets to tread water and starts to drown. I immediately dive in after her. Even though the water is cloudy, I can see her body falling through the water so clearly. She’s not struggling at all.  She’s accepted it. I grab her and pull her to the surface but when we break through the water it’s not Emmy at all._

_It’s Olivia Spector._

Stella puts the pen down and breathes in through her nose, out through her mouth. There’s a huge smudge of ink on the side of her hand. She goes to the sink and washes until the ink is gone and her hands are raw.

Stella rips the paper she’s written on into small pieces and then flushes it down the toilet.  No way Tanya will ever read it.  She grips the sink with both hands and then looks at herself in the mirror: no makeup, bags under her eyes, hair rumpled and knotted from last night’s sex. She looks _older_ than she usually does.

It’s not a bad thing.  She’s not the stupid seventeen year-old she was when Emmy said those things to her. And thank god for that.

She needs to distract herself. She goes back to the kitchen and sees that it’s nearly seven am; Tanya must be awake by now. She’s probably not going to go in to work unless it’s an emergency, and Stella probably won’t be needed until later in the day, if at all. Plenty of time for a morning fry-up, if Tanya has the provisions.

Stella’s laying out the eggs and bacon when the doorbell rings.

Stella freezes. It could be someone from surveillance making a follow-up call, ensuring all of the cameras have been removed. It could be Tom, looking for some respite after being with Rose all night. It could be Tanya’s ex.

Stella’s still considering whether she’s going to answer when Tanya rushes down the stairs and gets the door.

Immediately, two little girls attach themselves to Tanya’s legs. Stella can hear Tanya and her ex talking quietly by the door, but she can’t quite make out what they’re saying. The smaller girl, Diana, is motioning for her mother to pick her up.  And Tanya complies.

All four of then come into the living room, and Stella can’t hide in the kitchen anymore. She waves slightly at Ian. He’s exactly as she remembers him from her visit to his flat: short, thin, unshaven, glasses, wholly unintimidating. She wonders if that’s what drew Tanya to him in the first place.

“Good to see you again, Detective,” Ian says.

“Likewise,” Stella replies. “Tanya was extremely generous to let me stay here. It’s a lot more comfortable than the hotel.”

“I can imagine,” he says, and smiles at Tanya. It’s a genuine, easy smile. He’s probably still in love with her, the poor sod.

Ian thrusts his hands in his pockets and angles his head toward the door. “Well, I should get going. Full day of teaching ahead. Tanya, girls need to be dropped off at school by eight, eight fifteen at the latest.”

Tanya bounces Diana in her arms. “I know,” she tells Ian, but her attention is on Diana. The two of them bump noses. “I’ve done this before.”

“Of course. Right. I knew that. Well I’m going to...” He gestures lamely towards the door and then sees himself out.

Tanya puts Diana down and addresses both of her girls. “So, the two of you couldn’t wait until after school, hmm?”

“No, mummy,” Soni says. Her voice is an endearing mix of London and Belfast accents. “I haven’t seen you in a full week, and I’ve read a whole book. There are twenty-eight books on my sticker chart now, do you want to see?”

Tanya laughs. Stella thinks it’s the first time she’s heard Tanya laugh properly since before Rose was abducted. “We’ll have more time to talk about your book after school, love. Have you two had breakfast?”

“Daddy gave us cereal and toast,” Soni replies. She looks up at Stella. “Mummy who is she?”

Stella answers before Tanya has a chance to. “I’m Stella. I work with your mum. Did you really read twenty-eight books?”

Soni beams. “Well, _technically_ more than that, since I don’t get stars for all of the books I’ve read since September. But my teacher said if I can get to thirty books by June, then I can read _Matilda_ over the summer!”

“That’s a good book,” Stella comments. She turns back to the eggs and bacon on the counter. “I was thinking of making a fry up, is anyone interested?”

“I am!” Soni shouts, and Diana, who is sitting quietly at the kitchen table, raises her hand like she’s in school.

“Well, I could do with a fry up, too, so I suppose it’s unanimous.” Tanya’s voice is much brighter than usual, and much more animated. She swoops through the kitchen cabinets and deposits plates, forks, and napkins in front of the girls.

She then presents Stella with a whisk. “We like our eggs scrambled, please. And Diana gets extra bacon.”

Soni puts her hands on her hips. “Soni gets extra bacon too!”

“Fine, fine,” Tanya relents, but she’s smiling. “Extra bacon for Soni, too.” But then she whispers to Stella, “But really, extra for Diana.”

The two of them glance back at the younger girl, and suddenly Stella can see it. She’s so short and thin, so small for her age. Stella can see her bony legs clanking together under the table, and there’s a tremor in her hands that Stella recognizes.

Diana’s scared to go to school today.

Stella doesn’t say anything. She scrambles the eggs and fries the bacon, and she listens to Soni recount the plot of a book she just read, something about a girl being able to talk to animals. While Stella is distracted, Diana and Tanya are rapt, reacting to Soni’s every pause and inflection.

“But what happened to the big dog?” Tanya asks when Soni’s finished. “Does the dog catcher get him?”

Soni giggles. “You’ll find out _tomorrow_ ,” she tells her mum, but she whispers something in Diana’s ear. Diana smiles and bites her lip.

They eat. Tanya sneaks some of her bacon on to Diana’s plate, and even though it seems as though no one but Stella has noticed, Diana leaves that bit of bacon untouched. But she does finish her eggs under Tanya’s watchful eye.

When the food has been cleaned up and the dishes cleared away, Tanya ushers all of them, Stella included, into the living room and starts helping the girls get ready for school. But Soni is restless. Halfway through packing up her knapsack, she puts her books down and rushes up the stairs.

“Come on!” Soni calls down to her sister. “Let’s set up the guard!”

Diana skulks across the living room and sits at the bottom of the steps. “But we don’t do that till night time.”

“But they haven’t seen us in soooo looooong,” Soni whines. “We need to remind them what they’re supposed to do.”

Diana sighs, hoists herself up, and follows her sister upstairs.

Stella and Tanya watch them from the couch in the living room. “The guard,” Stella starts, “is that what you told me about when—“

“Yeah.”

Stella stares at her hands. “Do you really think they’ll know?” she asks quietly.

Tanya sighs. “I bought them a new ladybug. A replacement. I was careful to remove the tags. And I cleaned the room, twice. There’s no reason for them to find out.”

“But you worry they will.”

“I do.”

Stella moves a bit closer to Tanya on the couch. She lets her fingertips skitter across Tanya’s knee before letting her hand settle on Tanya’s thigh. She hopes it’s a comforting touch.

“You offered to help Sally Ann Spector,” Stella says gently. “You don’t... need to do that. If it’s too hard.”

Tanya shakes her head and offers Stella a small, sad smile. “Yeah, I do.” She removes Stella’s hand from her thigh and then kisses Stella’s palm. “I can, and I do.”

Tanya gets up from her couch and waits for her daughters to return from setting up their stuffed animal guard. Soni looks quite pleased with herself, but Diana's eyes are red-rimmed and damp.

“Mummy, do I have to go to school today?” Diana asks as she rubs the tears from her eyes.

Tanya takes her younger daughter aside. “Listen,” she says, “you are the bravest child at that school. Okay? No matter what happens, no matter what anyone calls you, you’re braver than them, and bigger than them, and _better_ than them, in every way that matters. And I love you.” She kisses Diana’s forehead.

And then the three of them are out the door, on their way to school. Stella watches them clamber into the car, she didn’t even realize Tanya had a car, from the window. Soni has to tug her sister into the backseat.

Stella tears her eyes away from the window and finds her phone. She checks her messages. There’s nothing urgent, just various officers updating her on things she had already suspected were in motion: Dani Ferrington has been taken off active duty, Dr. Lo is suspending her child sex abuse inquiry. Katie Benedetto has been securely transferred to a psychiatric facility. Sally Ann Spector and her children have been sent home.

From the sounds of it, Olivia Spector did not take the news of her father’s death well.

There’s one message, though, that Stella has to listen to twice.

“Ma’am, this is PC Hagstrom. I’m calling from Antrim Area hospital, and the staff requested that I update you on Annie Brawley. There was an incident last night that caused the staff to believe that Annie might commit serious harm to herself. They’ve transferred her to their psychiatric wing, and she’ll be in impatient treatment there until the doctors there have cleared her for release. They don’t want us questioning her in any investigative capacity before her release. Thanks, ma’am. Let me know when you’ve received this.”

Stella sighs. She can’t summon up the energy to be anything but profoundly sad. She drags herself up the stairs, she remembers seeing a very nice shower in the master bedroom, but she finds herself stopping in front of the girls’ door and pushing it open.

The stuffed animals are arranged in two circles. The outer circle is of larger animals, and all of them are facing outward, guarding the perimeter. One of them is a ladybug. The inner circle is of smaller animals, beanies and tiny plush toys, and those are all facing inward.

At the center of the circle, sitting on top of a pile of books, is a stuffed wolf.

Stella knows she shouldn’t disturb this display, but she can’t help but pluck the wolf from its perch and examine it. At closer look, it appears to be more of a husky dog. But still.

Stella sits in front of the door and holds the stuffed animal to her body. _Wolf haven._ She laughs to herself, but the sound is hollow. Next time she has that dream, there will be more women there: Annie, Rose. Maybe others. Along with the rest of the too-familiar faces.

_What will you tell your daughters..._

Stella buries her face in the wolf’s soft fur and begins to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in the Troubles and the shoot to kill policy, go ahead and look into the Stalker-Sampson Inquiry. 
> 
> The sex scene is 2000-ish words, I'm a fucking sinner/you're welcome. 
> 
> I seriously can't believe there's only one chapter left? I've been working on this for eight months? Who even am I?


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In summation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, _finally_
> 
> Some important thank you's: I couldn't have completed this without feedback and handholding from the incredible [heartsfilthylesson](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsfilthylesson/pseuds/heartsfilthylesson) who read lots of stuff that was incomplete, let me bounce ideas off of her, and listened to a lot of my (ridiculous and often really dirty) headcanons. She's written some great fic for The Fall (and Hannibal and The X-Files if you're into those sorts of things), so please read it and give her feedback! :D
> 
> Megan and K, just for general lovely encouragement and being wonderful. 
> 
> And all of you for still reading, especially for leaving kudos and commenting. You've made this so satisfying for me, so thank you!
> 
> Tw: Sexual assault/rape and incest mentions. Erm, kind of veiled in places but you get the idea. And cw for sexual content.
> 
> Also I don't own the song "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun"
> 
> So, without further ado...

A week passes.

Stella writes reports, does paperwork. She makes two more statements to internal affairs, both formal sexual harassment complaints. She leaves clipped, perfunctory messages for her colleagues in London and doesn’t return their phone calls when they respond.

She calls Marion Kay once, twice. It goes straight to voicemail.

In the evenings, she drives to Tanya’s and eats dinner with her and her daughters. When the workday’s ended, it just feels like the safest place to go. And with Tanya spending most of her day at Rose’s bedside, she knows she’s not the only one craving... Stella’s not sure how to describe it.  A soft place to land, perhaps.

It gets more comfortable as the days pass. Tanya and Soni teach Diana how to braid Stella’s hair, and Stella sits patiently as Diana tugs too hard and ties the hairband too tight. But eventually Diana learns the rhythm of it, and Tanya catches her trying to braid some of the electrical cords in the kitchen. That makes Stella smile, even if it almost gives Tanya a heart attack.

“Give her a lanyard,” Stella tells Tanya one night. “That will give her something to do with her hands. It might lessen her anxiety.”

Tanya sighs deeply. “You’re not the first to suggest something like that. But still. It might be worth trying.” Her eyes are so sad.

After the girls go to sleep, they fuck, and for hours. Stella’s shocked when Tanya goes down on her without any prompting, and it’s messy and imprecise at first but Tanya’s patient. She _wants_ to do this for Stella. And that thought is so erotic that Stella comes embarrassingly easily.

When Tanya comes up for air, she’s smiling.

“That was new,” she says, a bit bashful. She shrugs. “I like it.”

“Do you?” Stella pants. She can’t catch her breath. Her body feels like it’s beating, like if Tanya touched her again she’d feel it everywhere.

“Yeah. I do,” Tanya says, and kisses her. Stella pulls her closer.

_Oh,_ Stella thinks. _Shit._

* * *

Stella spends all day Thursday at the station. Tanya’s at the hospital with Rose, and Stella needs to start drafting a strategy for interviewing Rose and getting her official statement. She’s called McCurdy and McNally in for a meeting, and she’s instructed them not to even tell their male colleagues it’s happening.

Eastwood and Burns can see the tape, read the transcript. But they are not getting anywhere near that room.

But when she gets to her office, it’s not McCurdy and McNally there to greet her. It’s Deputy Chief Constable Gilepsie.

Beth Gilepsie looks different in person than she does in her pictures, and at first Stella can’t quite recognize why. It must be something deeply physical. She’s not much taller than Stella, but she holds herself as if she’s commanding the space from above. It’s not the way she looks—she’s wearing a police uniform and her short blond hair is a bit mussed—but just the way she _is._

“Detective Superintendent,” she says, and she holds out her hand for Stella to shake. Her grip is strong. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Stella straightens her posture. “Pleasure’s surely mine, ma’am.”

DCC Gilepsie chuckles. “You’re not my officer, no need for the ‘ma’am.’ Not today. I was hoping we could discuss your experience working with us, if you have a moment.”

Stella nods and gestures for DCC Gilepsie to sit at her desk. Stella takes the seat opposite, and it’s a strange view.

“I don’t want to mince words with you, Stella,” DCC Gilepsie starts. “I’ve received a few deeply troubling reports.”

Stella frowns. “Many aspects of the Spector investigation were troubling. I need you to be more...”

“I don’t mean Spector,” Gilepsie cuts in. “It’s _troubling_ that our ACC invited you out here to assist on a case and then thanked you for your efforts by sexually assaulting you.”

Stella blanches. She can’t quite believe that DCC Gilepsie is saying this to her. “That is one way of seeing it,” she offers half-heartedly.

DCC Gilepsie won’t be swayed. “Well, the video that DC McNally sent me this morning seems to suggest that’s the only way of seeing it,” she says, and Stella can spot the beginnings of a smile. “Nice punch, though.”

Stella can’t suppress her smirk, and she sees no reason to. “Thank you, ma’am.”

DCC Gilepsie pulls a pair of reading glasses out of her uniform pocket and opens up a file folder that Stella knows wasn’t on her desk this morning. “You’ve been advised, I assume, that there will be an inquiry regarding the handling of this case. You must be aware that our best action politically is to place the lion’s share of the blame on you: you’re not PSNI, and the narrative of ‘ well, we brought in a Brit to lead us and she fucked it up’ will be, shall we say, _satisfying_ to certain members of the public.”

“I’m aware,” Stella intones.

“But I’m not going to let that happen. Not if I can help it.” DCC Gilepsie says. She tosses her reading glasses on the desk and sighs. “I want you to know that I’m bringing your sexual assault report, as well as Spector’s video, to the Chief Constable. It wasn’t your leadership that led to the, let’s not kid ourselves, disastrous results of this case. It was ACC Burns’s terrible judgment and inability to understand personal and professional boundaries. Would you say that’s a fair assessment, Detective?”

Stella takes a moment and looks at what’s left of her board: _I SAY UNTO YOU: YOU STILL HAVE CHAOS WITHIN._ “I would,” she says.

DCC Gilepsie nods, and then gets up to close the door. But she doesn’t return to her chair; she just turns around and lingers near the doorframe. She looks smaller, somehow. Stella doesn’t like it. “I wish I could promise that something would come of it,” she says. “I wish I could tell you that ACC Burns will be fired. But the policing board is too powerful here. If they think Jim Burns is easy to manipulate, then he’ll stay as ACC. Hell, they may even give him my job.”

Stella knits her brows together. “That would be reckless.”

“That’s what I keep saying,” DCC Gilepsie sing-songs, and then she laughs. “But I’m not long for this job, They’ve instituted this new rule. The next Chief Constable needs to have worked for at least a year outside of the PSNI. That disqualifies me, and it sends me a clear message that I’m not wanted in the top position. So there’s nowhere to go now but retirement.”

“You know what you have to do, then,” Stella says, talking before she has a chance to truly grasp the implications of what DCC Gilepsie has just told her. “Stay with the PSNI until the day you die.”

DCC Gilepsie laughs again. “If only it were that simple! But I appreciate the support. And I want you to know that it’s returned in kind. That I’m on your side during this inquiry, no matter how much they try to destroy you. And they will. Try to destroy you.”

“I can take it.”

“Never said you couldn’t.”

A silence passes. DCC Gilepsie returns to her desk and puts on her reading glasses, tidies her folder of papers. Stella looks at DCC Gilepsie’s hands and maps out the veins running through them. “Detective, while I have you here,” DCC Gilepsie says, and it stuns Stella back to attention, “is there anything, besides the sexual harassment, obviously, that you want me to address? Or try to address, as the case may be?”

Stella drums her fingers against her thigh. There is so much that she needs to pull apart and reexamine. She knows she’s made her fair share of mistakes, and she’s not going to hesitate in owning up to them. But she needs objectivity. She needs to approach it as a reviewer would: determine exactly which mechanisms failed, how they failed, and what needs to be done to prevent them from failing again.

What she needs is more _time._

Stella meets DCC Gilepsie’s eyes before she speaks. “I would want to do my own independent review of the case, and then I can be in touch with you about places I could have been better supported. That will happen once I return to London. But for now, I have two recommendations, more for the PSNI’s benefit than my own.”

DCC Gillepse nods. “I appreciate that, Detective. What are they?”

“Promote Gail McNally to DS,” Stella says without hesitation. “She executed Spector’s arrest in difficult circumstances and conducted his initial interview. She gained Sally Ann Spector’s trust when Sally Ann Spector didn’t have a single reason to trust us.  I’ve seen her file. I know she’s qualified.  If I worked here, she’d be the first one I’d want to see move up the ranks.”

Stella finishes her recommendation with a flip of her hair and a small smile, and then she searches DCC Gilepsie’s face for a reaction.  For several moments, there isn’t one: she just returns Stella’s stare. But then she bursts out laughing.

Stella presses her lips together. “What’s funny?”

“I just...” DCC Gilepsie starts, but it gets lost in a fit of giggles. “I’m so sorry...” There’s one more peal of laughter before DCC Gilepsie collects herself. “I just... I authorized Gail McNally’s promotion this morning.”

“Oh,” Stella says.

“Oh,” DCC Gilepsie echoes, and then she smiles. “She’ll finish up the Spector case, and then we’ll move her back to West Belfast as a DS. I’m not exactly clear on why she left West Belfast in the first place.”

Stella eyes the pictures of Fiona Gallagher and Alice Monroe that are still taped to her whiteboard. “Perhaps you should ask her that.”

“Perhaps I will. What was your second recommendation?”

Stella clears her throat. “PC Danielle Ferrington. She is off active duty and will possibly be disciplined for her actions in Cairn Wood. I understand that Spector was in our custody, and it was our responsibility to keep him safe. We failed spectacularly. But PC Ferrington’s response to seeing a fellow officer attacked by a known killer was appropriate. There were other ways we could have prevented Spector’s death that had nothing to do with Ferrington’s actions. I suggest we explore those before we lay all the blame on a lone PC.”

DCC Gilepsie grimaces. “No one’s looking forward to wading through that mess, believe me. I understand what you’re saying, Detective, and I agree. But PC Ferrington’s an easy target, and there are limits to my powers, as I’ve said.”

“I understand,” Stella says, more to the top of the desk than to DCC Gilepsie. She can feel the first stirrings of pressure between her eyes. She should have expected this: it was always going to come down to _politics_.

But she’s not going to give up on Dani that easily. “PC Ferrington was at my side from the day I landed in Belfast. She has the makings of a fine officer, and it will be a lesser force without her in it.”

“She’ll keep her job,” DCC Gilepse says, and Stella releases a long breath. “Getting her back on the street and off probation may be a challenge. But many officers have found ways to be productive during desk duty. An enterprising PC could get friendly with her CID colleagues and position herself to become a DC in a few years’ time.”

Stella smiles, slow and easy. Dani’s going to be fine. “That’s good to hear. Thank you, ma’am.”

DCC Gilepsie just nods in response. She huffs under her breath and starts looking at the investigative notes and fragments that are still pinned to the office boards. She reads the Nietzsche, studies the Fuseli. Her eyes harden when she gets to the pictures of the women: Fiona, Alice, Sarah, Annie, Rose.

“I keep thinking it’s going to get easier,” says DCC Gilepsie. All of the warmth has drained from her voice. “For women, I mean. I tell people that it _has_ gotten easier. But not by much. Not in the ways that matter.”

Stella tries to offer DCC Gilepsie a smile, but she can’t quite manage it. But she does sit with her until the worst of their anger has dissipated and they’re ready to go back to work.

* * *

Stella leaves her office and goes to find McNally and McCurdy. They’re not in the bullpen, and they’re not in either of their offices or any of the conference rooms they were using during the investigation. Stella texts McNally and receives instructions to go to an office near the entrance reception area. It strikes Stella as a strange place to meet, but she heads up there anyway.

She finds McNally sitting with Dani Ferrington; they’re both hunched over a computer and studying a PSNI Portal webpage.

“So they just... gave you access to this?” McNally asks Dani.

“The Archive Unit wanted me to pull all the files of officers boosted from the RUC for corruption,” Dani answers, and she types something into a search field on the page. “So, yeah. The whole HR database, from the 60s to now. I mean, they’re still putting all of the old stuff online, and the record keeping was shit during the Troubles...”

“But everything’s here,” McNally finishes.

“Did you want to look for something specific?” Dani asks.

McNally smiles and crosses her arms across her chest. “How about sexual harassment complaints?”

Stellla clears her throat, and both McNally and Dani turn around. “I was wondering why you brought me here,” Stella says, “but now I think I have an idea.”

Dani’s eyes dart between Stella and McNally, and McNally just shrugs. “PC Ferrington was telling me a bit about what they’re having her do on desk duty, and I thought I’d take a look.”

“Last two complaints from DSI Stella Gibson, non-PSNI,” Dani recites. “They haven’t specified who the complaint is against, which generally means it’s someone really senior.”

“Yeah, that’s how they make them disappear,” McNally snaps.

“This one won’t disappear,” Stella says quietly. Dani rotates her chair to face Stella, and McNally narrows her eyes, just a little. “I just spoke to DCC Gilepsie. It appears that _someone_ sent her some of the video evidence from Spector’s phone. Bit of an unconventional move.”

“But an effective one,” says McNally, smirking now. God, the West Belfast officers are not going to know what hit them once McNally moves in.

Stella chuckles. “I understand congratulations are in order, Detective Sergeant.”

McNally’s eyes light up, and she suddenly looks much younger, much less tired. Stella wonders if she’s gotten much sleep over the past week. “Thank you, ma’am. It means a lot, coming from you.”

A comfortable silence settles between the three of them. Dani clicks through a few more records, and Stella pulls up a chair from across the room. Stella looks over Dani’s shoulder as McNally paces behind them.

“I’ve been thinking about taking Rose Stagg’s statement,” McNally says. She speaks in a careful hush, and it’s unnerving after all of her previous bluster. Stella turns her chair around to listen. “I want to get it right.”

“We can take some time tomorrow and go through it question by question,” Stella says. “If now doesn’t work. The nurses are not keen on letting Rose talk to the police, so it can wait. I’ll be in Belfast for a few more weeks, I think. Most likely I’ll do it. Unless Rose wants someone else.”

McNally nods. “Yeah. I’ll email you. I have a lot to do now, what with the move and everything. But, um, thanks for everything, ma’am.” She offers Dani a nod and a smile as she heads out the door. “Ta, Dani.”

Dani’s still smiling after McNally’s left. Stella can’t help but notice.

“So you two are chummy, then?” Stella asks Dani. If she’s going to be in Belfast for a while, she might as well help Dani pull. Poor woman probably needs it.

Dani chuckles nervously. “Not really, no.”

Stella raises her eyebrows and purses her lips a bit. “Well, if they insist on keeping you at a desk, it’s a good opportunity. Get to know her before they ship her off west.”

“No, she’s straight as board, that one.” Dani says quickly. She blushes and starts studying the PSNI Portal.

Stella laughs. “I meant professionally. She’s a good door into the CID. But, come to think of it, how do you know?”

Dani types a few things into the portal. She makes it look deliberate but Stella can tell she’s stalling. “That she’s straight? I... uh... have a sense for these things.”

Stella has to ask, because she can’t not know. “Did you have a sense about me?”

A long beat. Stella knows that Dani knows about her and Professor Reed Smith; it’s been part of the PSNI gossip train since that night at the Merchant. And she and Tanya haven’t exactly been subtle, what with Stella arriving on Tanya’s bike every morning.

“I...” Dani starts, and then she looks away. She gathers her courage and starts again. “I had suspected. Olsen threw me off.”

“I see.”

Dani sighs, an attempt to clear of air of the charged exchange. She closes out the sexual harassment search and reopens the window containing her archival work.

Stella shakes her head. She thinks, _I should have done this sooner_. “Dani, I do want you to know that I have dated women as a police officer, and if you have any questions for me or need advice, you can use me as a resource. If you’re comfortable with that.”

Dani blinks a few times, as if trying to adjust her vision to a new light in the room. She can’t seem to find the words she wants. “Oh, um, thanks,” she mutters. “We, um, have a group in the PSNI. Meet regularly. Last year we all rearranged our shifts to march at Pride. So it’s been okay, so far at least. But thanks. I do appreciate it.”

Stella nods. She’s glad Dani has some support, but she can tell that there’s so much she’s not saying, She remembers Dani’s story about her mother, the dirty protest.

“Any supportive family?” Stella asks quietly.

Dani lowers her eyes. Stella can hear her breathe in, and then breathe out shakily. “No. Well, my sister’s been a bit better. She’s trying, at least. My dad is just... no.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Stella says, and means it.

Dani offers Stella a half-smile, but she’s clearly finished discussing it. She tries to get back to her work, but she can’t stop fidgeting. Stella can only wait for her to say whatever’s on her mind.

“I’m fucked for shooting Spector, aren’t I?” she blurts out, finally. 

Stella rolls her chair in a little closer to Dani, and then contemplates touching her. Just laying a hand on her shoulder. But Dani looks so wound up, so _panicked_ that Stella holds back. Instead she just says, “You shouldn’t be. But yes, you are. A bit.”

Dani covers her face with her hand; she doesn’t want Stella to see her cry. But Stella can hear it. “I didn’t...” she says, and then takes a huge gulp of air, “I didn’t want him dead. But I couldn’t let him kill a person while I could stop it. Not... not again.”

Stella sighs. “I know.”

“I keep... seeing Sarah Kay’s body and I...”

And Dani can’t hold back any more: she starts crying into to her hands. Stella just lets her get it out.  Perhaps she hasn’t truly had the chance to yet.

After a few minutes, Dani calms down a bit. “I’m sorry,” she says.

“Don’t be.”

Dani takes a deep breath in, and then lets it go. “You talked to DCC Gilepsie. You think they’ll let me back on the street in the next, I don’t know, ten years?”

“You’ll be stuck at that desk for a while, but not forever,” Stella replies, as calmly as she can. “If you can make yourself useful to the CID officers, they might help you transition into a DC role. If that’s what you want.”

Dani sniffles and stares at her hands. “DS Egan in the Child Abuse unit said he thought I did well with Olivia. That maybe I could help them bring in kids to be interviewed. That was, you know, before Cairn Wood. Not sure the offer still stands.”

“Well,” says Stella, leaning back in her chair, “it might. Only way to know is to ask. And he is right, you know. You did well.”

That earns Stella a small, watery smile. “Thanks,” Dani says. “I didn’t really talk to Olivia after she was in the car with me. Is she okay?”

Stella shrugs. “She went home with her mother last week. She’s checking in with Dr. Lo, I believe. These aren’t conversations I’m privy to.”

“I worry about her,” Dani admits. “I wonder if she knows about him yet. It’s bad enough that he’s dead, but now... she loved him _so_ much. You could just tell. And Spector... was he even capable of love?”

Stella looks down at her hands. She has been grappling with this question for some time now: she knows that _answer_ , but to put it into words has been difficult. Almost painfully so.

“He loved Olivia,” she begins. Dani turns her head so can look at Stella as she speaks. “And Olivia loved him. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted Olivia to see him as he really was, understand what he really wanted, and love him still. That’s why he gave her Sarah Kay’s necklace, kept his drawings and his plans above her bed. And that’s why he took her with him. Men like Spector feel love. In fact, they crave it. They crave it in ways they know they can’t express, yet they express it anyway. And they don’t care who gets hurt in the process, not even if it’s the very person that they love.”

Stella’s not talking about Spector anymore.

“That doesn’t sound like love at all,” Dani says, bewildered.

Stella swallows. She is unsure of how she came to be near tears. “Perhaps it would be easier to name it something else. But if you are going to be an investigator, Dani, you’ll have to sit across the table from so many people who’ll say they did it for love, or for want of love, and who absolutely mean what they say.”

Dani nods gravely. “I’ll remember that, ma’am.”

Dani’s sudden formality brings Stella back to the present. She gets up and drags her hand across the back of Dani’s chair. “McNally might have been on to something with those sexual harassment reports. If you have a moment, you might want to pull together any reports that were closed without sufficient explanation. Those might be worth taking to the DCC.”

“I’m ahead of you, ma’am.,” Dani says, and she smirks. “I’ve been doing those on my lunch all week. I can send you a file dating back to 2000.”

Stella tsks in amusement, and then starts walking toward the door. “Please do. Thank you, Dani.”

“No problem, ma’am.”

Stella hesitates for a moment. “Dani, I think I would like it if you just called me by my name, from now on.”

Dani tenses, and then Stella can feel her relax, ease into the idea. “Stella,” she says, mostly to herself. “Okay. Well, then. Thanks, Stella.”

“Thank you, Dani,” Stella says. She leaves the room, and then the station, feeling so much lighter.                                                                        

* * *

Stella has to take the M2 to get to Antrim Area Hospital to visit Annie.  It’s the same road Spector used when he tried to escape with Olivia.  It’s quiet at two pm, and Stella can’t help but note the police cars tucked just out of sight, waiting to catch someone speeding.

She presses down on the gas just a bit more.

It took Stella several long, frustrating conversations with the nurses at Antrim to even agree to this visit.  She only wanted to see how Annie was doing. She had to explain that it was a personal visit, and she had absolutely no intention of even discussing the investigation and its aftermath, let alone ask Annie any investigative questions.  She had to promise that to at least three different psychiatric professionals.

But she’s here now. The psychiatric unit associated with Antrim Area Hospital is called Holywell, and it’s down the road from the main building. Stella’s shocked to see that the building is in a poor state of repair: the paint near the ceiling is chipping, and at least one of the windowsills appears to be rotting. Stella scoffs to herself; now this is a story that Ned Callan from the _Belfast Telegraph_ would be wise to pursue.

There's only one person manning the nurse's station: a small, haggard-looking woman with an austere profile and a pristine doctor's coat. She offers Stella a wan smile. "Can I help?"

Stella shifts from one foot to the other and shoves her hands into her pockets. "I was hoping to visit with Annie Brawley? I had called ahead. I'm Stella Gibson."

The nurse, or perhaps she is a doctor, frowns. "Annie's been asleep for most of the day. She had a medication adjustment that didn't quite agree with her. I'd wake her up but I'm not sure what her mood will be like. She probably won't be ready for visitors outside her immediate family until early next week. Do you want me to ring her psychiatrist for you?" 

Stella sighs and shakes her head. Annie's psychiatrist isn't keen on Stella visiting, and Stella doesn't feel like fighting that battle at the moment. "No, it's fine. If you could just let her know I was here." 

"Annie or her doctor?" the woman asks. Stella takes a step closer and reads her nametag. Dr. Margaret Oswell.

"Both, I suppose," Stella answers.

Dr. Oswell picks out a folder from one of piles on the desk and makes a note in it. "All right, I'll let them know. Why don't you give us a call next week and we'll find a better time?"

"Okay," Stella says. She can feel her jaw tighten. She was counting on talking to Annie today. "I'll do that. Thanks."

"Thank you," Dr. Oswell says, and gets back to her work.

Stella gets back into her car and sets up her GPS to put her back on the M2. But there's a road closure near one of the roundabouts and Stella spends twenty minutes navigating back roads in the hopes of finding an entrance to the M2. 

She parks her car next to a touristy looking castle and its grounds and resets her GPS. If she gets on the A26, that should lead her straight to the M2.

Her GPS seems determined to take her in another direction, so Stella turns it off and puts on the radio.

_Oh mama dear, we're not the fortunate ones. Oh girls just wanna have fun._  

It’s a reflex at this point: Stella reaches out and slams the radio off. She fucking _hates_ this song.

She’s found the M2 now, and she speeds up and merges right in. She breathes into the silence that the radio’s left. Her hands are exactly where they need to be, ten and two on the steering wheel, and she concentrates on the feel of the leather beneath her palms. She knows where her mind will go next, and she knows that sometimes she is able to stop it.

But she doesn’t have the energy to, today.  

_The funeral procession for her father was almost fifty cars long, and Stella and her mother and her aunts rode in the car right behind the hearse. Stella watched the East Sussex greenery go by in a blur, while her mother sat in the front seat and fiddled with the radio. Sometimes it settled on a stream of static, and Stella wanted her mum to keep it there. It made it easier to just... stop thinking._

_But then she heard a high-pitched blare coming from the opposite lane. Stella didn’t recognize it at first, it sounded like a siren, but eventually she picked out the aggressive synthetic rhythm of the music and the bright whine of Cyndi Lauper’s voice. And driving the car was Emmy, clearly drunk, and going just as slow as the procession so every single person attending Stella’s father’s funeral knew she was there._  

_She'd driven all the way from London just for this._

_She was singing along to the music. Her gravelly alto couldn’t quite hit the high notes, but she was happy to scream them from the open windows of her mum’s old Ford Cortina. Stella couldn’t quite see her face, but she could see her light brown hair whipping around her and she could imagine her body. God, could Stella imagine her body. How she couldn’t find a fancy bra big enough for her breasts so Stella could see the tops of her nipples whenever they changed to go out. How soft her thighs were when Stella collapsed drunkenly in her lap. How Stella’d seen her apply lipstick so many times that she’d swear she knew the shape of Emmy’s lips by heart, even if she’d never kissed them._

_I wanna be the one to walk in the sun…_  

_Stella’s mum banned her from seeing Emmy after that. It wasn’t a sacrifice: she and Emmy weren’t speaking at that point._  

_Stella knew what her father had done to Emmy. She knew and she still missed him, missed them both, and she’d ache with fury and with wanting and with a hollow, nauseous feeling that she’d only later recognize as shame._

Stella grips the steering wheel harder. If she can’t visit Annie, then perhaps someone at Belfast City Hospital will believe her when she says she has no intention of interviewing Rose. Maybe she could use a pseudonym. Or wear a particularly large hat.

Stella can feel her pulse start to quicken and her shoulders start to tense up. She knows it’s just excess nerves, displaced anger, but evening out her breath doesn’t chase it away completely. So she moves her hand to the radio and carefully switches it back on.

_They just wanna… they just wanna… girls… they just wanna…_  

It’s an easy ride back to Central Belfast.

* * *

Stella has surprisingly little trouble getting permission to see Rose. It seems that police are now welcome to see Rose, provided that they leave their notebooks and audio recording equipment behind. Something must have changed since Stella made this same phone call two days ago.

Rose's room in the hospital only has one small window, but it gets a good amount of mid-afternoon sun. Stella stands in the doorway and watches Rose: she's trying to organize her get well cards. She's making piles, but the little hospital bed can't accommodate all of the well wishes.

Rose looks up and beams at Stella. "I almost thought you'd forgotten me.” 

“Never,” Stella says gently. She nods at one of the three chairs lined up next to Rose’s bed. “Is this seat taken?”

Rose shakes her head. Stella sits down and leans in, takes a moment to look Rose over. She’s pale and very thin. Her body’s littered with cuts and bruises that will only heal with time, and her left arm, the one that had ‘I love you’ carved into it, is covered in a thick bandage. There’s an oxygen machine and a huge bottle of water sitting next to her.

“You’ve graduated from the IV,” Stella remarks. 

“Yeah,” Rose rasps, and she swallows. She reaches for her water and takes several long, deliberate sips. “It was touch and go for a bit, but I haven’t needed it in two days. That’s good, apparently. My doctor keeps saying I'm lucky that everything’s gone so smoothly.”

Stella hesitates. “Good.”

Rose looks down at her cards and shuffles them idly. “Yeah,” she says, barely a wisp of a sound. 

Stella brings her chair a little bit closer. She’s aware of how far she is away from Rose at any given moment, and she remembers that while they have the video and know about how long she spent in the trunk of the car, they still don’t know exactly what Spector did to her.

“I wanted to apologize to you,” Stella starts. “Our job as a police force is to keep people safe, and in that respect, we failed you utterly. So on behalf of myself and my colleagues at the PSNI, please accept our apologies.”

Rose looks at Stella like she can’t quite understand what Stella’s saying or why she’s saying it. Stella tilts her head to the side in question.

“It’s just... “Rose sputters, “I just heard this. Tom and I just heard this. There was this bearded fellow in a uniform...”

“Assistant Chief Constable Burns.” Stella offers. A visit from him would explain why the nurses’ resistance had suddenly disappeared. 

“I didn’t catch his name. He came by this morning. He said he needed to give an official apology, but he kept going on.” Rose groans. “And _on._ And Nancy had arranged to miss a bit of school so she could see me, so Tom had to like, forcibly remove him. Do you have to work with him all day?”

 Stella’s lips quirk up. “He’s my boss.”

“Wow, that’s terrible,” Rose says, and she sighs dramatically. Stella wonders if her energy is a side effect of some of her medication. “And the weirdest thing was he wouldn’t look at me. He talked to Tom but he just like, barely acknowledged me. It was so... I don’t know. I didn’t like it.”

It was only ten days ago that Jim was telling the team that Rose was probably dead. It feels like much longer.

“He spends much more time dealing with bureaucrats than with civilians,” Stella says. She just stops herself from saying _victims._ “I can imagine how he might come across as unnatural. But I’d rather not waste time talking about my superior officer.” 

Rose’s face falls. “You want to talk about Spector?”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Stella clarifies. But it occurs to her that, well, of course she had intended to broach the subject. She presses on. “How are Nancy and Cody?”

But Rose won’t look at her. “Wow, I’m stupid,” she whispers. “I know you didn’t come to interview me, but of course this is really about him.” 

“I don’t believe that’s what I said.” Stella speaks carefully, evenly, but it comes across as terse and impatient. Stella frowns.

Whatever color was left in Rose’s face is gone now. She collapses against her pillows, and some of the cards scatter on the floor. “Whatever it is you came here to ask, you can ask it.” 

There’s little point in continuing this back and forth, however misguided it may be. Stella clears her throat. “I also wanted to apologize for the circumstances of Spector’s death. Justice won’t be carried out, not for you, not for Annie Brawley. And not for the families of Sarah Kay, Alice Monroe, and Fiona Gallagher. All of the circumstances that led to Spector’s death were preventable, but we didn’t prevent them. An apology doesn’t seem nearly enough to cover it, but unfortunately it’s all I have.”

Rose tries to scoff, but it comes out as more of a wheeze. “What on Earth do you want me to say to that?”

Stella takes a deep breath in, and lets it go. “Nothing in particular.”

“No,” Rose says sternly. “There’s always something. It’s not that I’m not _angry_. Because sure, I’m angry. But it doesn’t matter to me if he’s in a jail cell or underground. I just want him _gone_. I want this to be over. I want to be _out_ of this hospital, and I want to go back to my husband and back to my kids. Every moment I spend talking or thinking about him is a moment I could spend living my life. I’m not going to let him take anything else from me. I’m not.”

Rose has to take a moment to get her breath back after that. A silence passes between them. Stella can see the tears standing in Rose’s eyes.

“That’s a good attitude to have,” Stella says.

She thinks: _you have such a long road ahead._

Rose smiles. Her eyes have softened. “Thanks,” she says. 

“I did mean it when I asked about Nancy and Cody,” Stella says, by way of changing the subject.

Rose bites her lip to try to hide her grin. “Oh, more than I could have asked for. They _behave_. In the _hospital._ They’re honestly trying really hard to be good for me, even though I know it’s hard. I think Nancy has a lot of questions. She knows something really terrible happened, but she won’t ask what. Kids are so intuitive. It’s really hard to hide things from them.”

Stella hums quietly. She wonders if Rose knows that Spector had children. A daughter.

“Tanya’s been great at picking up slack when my mum and Tom need a break,” Rose continues. And then she smirks. “There, that’s what we should talk about. _Tanya._ ”

Stella keeps her face as neutral as possible. “What about her?”

“You two sleeping together,” she says. She reaches for her water and takes a long, noisy slurp. “Not quite what I was expecting when I asked Tanya, you know, what I missed.”

“To be fair, I don’t think Tanya was expecting it either,” Stella muses. “But there’s not much to comment on. We enjoy each other’s company. We each understood what the other was going though, when you disappeared.”

“And the sex is great,” Roses adds, and cocks an eyebrow in Stella’s direction.

Stella huffs in amusement. “Just how much did Tanya tell you?"

“Not everything, I’m sure. But...” Rose leans forward and makes sure that no one’s lingering outside or walking by. Then she pitches her voice very low. “Did you really ask her to wear a strap on?”

Stella’s eyes widen slightly. _Shit._ How best to put this. “It was merely a _suggestion_.”

Rose bursts into heavy, rasping laughs. Tears start running down her face, and her whole body seems to collapse with the effort of sustaining her laughter. “Amazing,” she chokes out. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

And then Stella, too, starts to laugh. And that’s how Tom finds them, laughing so hard that he could hear it from all the way down the hall.

* * *

Stella excuses herself once Tom and Nancy get settled in Rose’s room. But she doesn’t leave the hospital quite yet. She knows Tanya will be arriving in a few hours with her girls and a home-cooked meal.

Stella will be gone by then. She thinks she needs some time away from Tanya and the girls, take a few days to clear her head. She needs to figure out what the fuck she’s doing with Tanya before someone gets hurt.

Her tea is getting cold, and the plastic hospital lobby chair is starting to dig into her back. She could go back to the station: Eastwood had indicated that he could use a second opinion on his corruption case against Burns. She could go back to her hotel and start working on organizing all of her papers for the inquiry. Or better yet, she could go for a swim.

For now she just sits, breathes.

Eventually, Tom comes out. He’s holding a crying Nancy in his arms, and he looks just _so_ tired.

“Thought you had left,” he says.

Stella traces a circle around the rim of her Styrofoam cup. “I will in a minute. I just fancied some tea.”

Nancy whimpers, and Tom tries to bounce her a bit in his arms. She’s big now, though, and Stella can tell that it’s difficult for him. “Okay. We’re going back in soon. We just... needed a moment.”

Stella nods and stares into what’s left of her tea. A few quiet seconds pass.

“Oh, Rose did want me to tell you something,” Tom says. Stella’s head snaps up. “You’re welcome here anytime. As a personal visitor.”

Stella smiles slightly. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Sure,” Tom replies. He lowers Nancy down and, carefully and reverently, sets her on her feet. He takes Nancy’s hand and starts leading her down the hall, back to her mum.

“I guess I’ll see you soon, Detective,” he turns and says to Stella.

Stella doesn’t say anything in response. She just watches the two of them continue down the hall and then disappear from view.

Stella takes another big, deep breath and then reaches down to retrieve something from her bag.  It’s a leather notebook, a brown one of good quality, with a tying clasp and a swirling decorative pattern on the cover.  She had meant to offer it to Annie as a gift, but she’s only just realized that Annie won’t be allowed anything with string in her psychiatric facility.

She runs her hands over the leather and flips the pages under her thumb.  She can feel a papercut blooming under her skin, and she lets herself focus on the pain for a moment, if only to dispel the image of Tom and Nancy.

Father and daughter.

Stella closes her eyes and searches for a way to steady her mind. It takes her only a moment to find it, from a biography she memorized from the Internet. She’s known it for years, now, and she recites it in her head:

_Amelia Hunt, DClinPsy, is a psychotherapist who practices in the greater Birmingham area. She specializes in Trauma Focused Cognitive Behavioral therapy, and she spent many years serving as a crisis intervention counselor for victims of rape and sexual assault. She received her BSc in Psychology from University College London and her DClinPsy from University of Sheffield. She is credited as the co-author on many articles on the long-lasting effects of trauma on behavior. She lives in King’s Heath with her thirteen-year-old daughter Karen and their dog Rooster._

Stella opens her eyes. She feels calm now, grounded. She knows that the phone number for Emmy’s practice was listed at the end of the short biography. It might be out of date, but Stella knows that she can look up the most recent iteration.

Perhaps it’s finally time.

She sucks away the tiny bead of blood from her papercut, and then she opens the leather-bound notebook. She has no intention of reclaiming the old one from evidence, and this will certainly do as a replacement. There is a dream from just last night that she is eager to record, and there’s a pen sitting on a low table next to a pile of magazines.

But something gives her pause. The pen hovers over the blank paper, and for a moment Stella is confounded, lost as to where to even begin.

But then she knows.

She writes: _Dear Olivia...._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of explanatory notes: 
> 
> 1\. DCC Gilepsie is very heavily based on a real former PSNI DCC [Judith Gillespie.](http://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/news/northern-ireland/im-leaving-psni-on-my-own-terms-insists-deputy-chief-constable-judith-gillespie-30088732.html) If you click through the link, you'll realize that I lifted some things in this chapter straight from reality. *whistles*
> 
> 2\. The Telegraph actually [did cover Holywell.](http://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/news/health/pictures-reveal-state-of-disrepair-at-top-northern-ireland-hospital-28735591.html)
> 
> 3\. Title of this story is adapted from Jeanann Verlee's poem ["Jezebel Revisits the Book of Kings"](https://youtu.be/ruilExNrEbA) Click through for video, highly, highly recommended. 
> 
> 4\. You all are welcome to visit me on tumblr at [fanchonmoreau.](http://fanchonmoreau.tumblr.com/) It's mostly classical music and poetry and hating the patriarchy over there but like who knows.


End file.
